


After Falling

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-20
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've already fallen.  It's getting back up that's the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

_She is soft and smooth and so different from what he's grown used to. His hands smooth their way up her legs, soft and round and smooth beneath his hands. So different from the taut hard muscles and crisp wiry hairs he remembers. The soft curve of her waist, the indentation of her hips, nothing like the harsh broad lines of muscle and bone. His hands slowly make their way up, over the gentle slender slope of her stomach [nothing like the hard solid abs he remembers, nothing like the clever lines and curling hairs, only smooth and soft and slender] and over the curve of her breasts. He stops here, examines without meaning. It's been so long since he's touched a woman like this, so long since he's even thought of one like this. She sighs, moves against him and he's startled out of his reverie, his hand lying still lying, motionless, against her breast. Guiltily, as though making up for something, his hands stroke at her body, delving into all her crevices and valleys and hills, learning her thoroughly and unable to stop thinking 'it's not like him, it' different, it's not the way it should be...’ His lips follow briefly where his hands have already been, and she arches again, her voice soft and trembling as his name falls from her lips - "Billy." The sound of his name pauses him and he lifts head to gaze at her, his green meeting her dark brown and not the gray he so desperately longs to see. Frantically, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers, as though he could possibly shut Dominic out of his mind. She melts into the kiss, her mouth yielding, her lips soft just like everything else about her. And Billy aches as he remembers a harsh, biting, passion, the feel of kisses that give as much as they take, the feeling of a hard solid body grinding against his own, the sound of a voice not gasping and sweet but loud and demanding - 'harder, faster, dammit Billy FUCK me!' - and Billy closes his eyes and tries not to hear her gentle voice or feel her soft body or see her dark eyes, her dark hair._

_…And he doesn’t open his eyes again until it’s all over, until he’s slowly drawing away from her and she’s breathing hard, raggedly. And the guilt thrums in ears and pounds his heart as she pulls him close again, her fingers tracing patterns through his hair and down his back as she whispers soft nonsensical words in his ear. And he doesn’t know if he feels guilty because he tried to pretend she was someone else or because he didn’t pretend she was someone else._

_He whispers the same soothing words back at her automatically, his voice sleepy and his hands stroke her body in weary movements that mirror her own. But in his mind, his thoughts whirl and spin and he’s very much awake. He wanted to think she was Dominic. But he couldn’t. Because Dominic doesn’t have dark eyes and long hair or soft curves and a gentle voice. And Billy can’t force himself to make love to someone who isn’t there._

_He waits for her breathing to fall into the gentle rhythm of sleep until he pulls away, sick and disgusted with himself and with her and with Dominic.  
_

  The water splashed down soothingly over Billy’s sore muscles and he groaned as he closed his eyes and leaned against the tiled shower wall. He didn’t want to leave the shower. He didn’t want to leave its warm water and comforting pattern of sound. He didn’t want to leave the escape it provided from the girl lying, asleep, in his bed. Sighing, he pulled away from the wall and opened his eyes. He shouldn’t think about Dominic. Billy tried not to think about Dominic as he lathered up a washcloth and drew it in sloppy circles over his body. Billy tried not to think about Dominic as he rubbed shampoo through his hair, rinsed, and repeated. He tried not to think about Dominic as he added cream rinse and washed his body again so that he could justify spending more time in the shower. Billy tried not to think about Dominic as he shaved and brushed his teeth in the shower, two things he’d sworn he’d never do in the shower. And Billy tried not to think about Dominic as the chill of the water forced him out of the shower. Eventually, he gave up. He wrapped a towel around his waist, picked a comb with a shaking hand, tried to force himself to sort out the tangled mess of hair, gave up and climbed right back into the shower where he let himself think of Dominic as his soap-slicked hand slipped down his body and he whispered Dominic’s name beneath the spray of the shower. It was nearly a quarter of an hour later when Billy decided that he could venture out from the shower and back into the bedroom. Slowly, he reached to turn off the shower and slower yet, stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist again. He didn’t want to go back to the bedroom, he admitted to himself. He didn’t want to return to that bed where there lay a woman sleeping, a woman he’d slept with but hadn’t wanted too, a woman who was a prime example of another friendship he’d just fucked up, both literally and metaphorically. Billy sighed, rubbed at his head with a towel, and then decided there was no point really and abandoned both towels on the floor in favor of real clothes, and with a long, deep breath, managed to climb back into bed. \--- Someone was watching him. Billy frowned slightly and experimentally, flexed a hand. It came in contact with a smooth patch of skin and the events of the night before suddenly struck Billy. He opened his eyes, smiled weakly at the woman. Shit, he thought. “Morning!” he said. “Did I wake you?” she murmured, apologetically, but her eyes were dark and slightly mischievous. “Nah. Was about to open my eyes.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “S’the honest truth.” “If you say so.” She smiled and began pulling at a loose thread on the blanket, her gaze flickering from her fingers to Billy’s face, and back again. It was a nervous sort of gesture that annoyed Billy without him really knowing *why* he was annoyed. He wanted to snap at her to stop it, but he couldn’t because if he did, she’d either yell back or cry. Billy didn’t want to argue. And he didn’t want to be stuck comforting a sobbing girl. So he didn’t say anything and instead, sat up and wondered how quickly he could get her out of the house. She followed him, sitting up and without any hesitance, reaching out to rest her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Are you all right? You look upset.” Billy turned his head and forced a smile at her. “I’m fine. How about yourself?” She sighed and inched closer to him, and rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping him in some sort of one-armed hug. “I’m good.” She breathed in deeply. “Did you take a shower last night? You smell good.” “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep, it was hot - I didn’t wake you did I?” Billy continued rambling without waiting for an answer, “Do you want one now? It’ll help wake you up, right?” She frowned slightly as he slid out from the covers, out from her embrace and hurried into the adjoining bathroom. He emerged less then a minute later, the towels from his shower last night in his arms. “Everything’s clean in there, so, um, feel free to-and, um,” Billy couldn’t find it in him to regain control over his mouth and finally he excused himself, saying bluntly and awkwardly, “Coffee. I’ll. Go. Make some. Yeah. Coffee.” She smiled uncertainly at him and he flashed a quick smile at her before stumbling backward down the hall, his heart pounding wildly as though he’d just gotten away with murder. \--- Billy began to regain some of his runaway senses as he slowly measured out water and coffee beans. He shouldn’t have run out on her like that, he admonished himself. He should have been more sincere, more captivating, more of anything than a floundering, rambling man who couldn’t have acted more like a recently devirginized teenage boy if he’d tried. Billy sighed, turned on the coffee machine and sat down to wait for the coffee. Her name was Sarah. He hadn’t said her name once since they’d arrived at his house last night. She probably thought he’d forgotten it. Shit. He really was an asshole. He was an asshole because not only had he treated a nice, decent, fun and intelligent girl like dirt, but he had honestly liked her. And he had thought that because he liked her, he should date her. Why? he wondered, *why* had he thought it would be a good idea to take this girl out? And *why* had he thought it’d be an even better idea to take her home with him? It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t liked her, hadn’t known her, if he had known what he was doing was actually using her, trying to replace Dom with someone else. But he hadn’t known that was what he was trying to do until now. He’d thought he was attracted to her and that he could have something with her he hadn’t had with any woman for a long time. But he wasn’t. It didn’t matter that Sarah made him laugh or that the curve of her body fit with his so neatly. It didn’t matter that she had long dark hair or that she made him think instead of giving him mindless banter. It didn’t matter because Billy didn’t care. He would have taken anyone home last night, Billy realized with a sickening taste of guilt spreading in his mouth. It could have been anyone. And he wished that it had been anyone else. Because not only had he just destroyed a friendship with a girl who he’d thought he’d still be calling for a mid-morning coffee or an evening drink ten years from now, he hadn’t done anything but make the need for Dom in his life more apparent to him. He was desperate now for Dom whereas before he’d only been pathetically wanting him. He was never going to get over this man, Billy figured, feeling very sorry for himself. He was never going to stop wanting, stop needing Dominic. The coffeepot was filled and Billy was just starting to pour out two cups of coffee when Sara walked into the kitchen. Her hair was damp and pulled back in a messy bun that sat precariously on the top of her head, long strands of hair escaping from it and falling in soft waves around her neck and face. Her eyes were solemn as they gazed at him, but not entirely lacking in sympathy, the curves around her mouth softening its unsmiling state. Billy gave her a weak smile and started to ask her how she took her coffee but was silenced as she stirred in the sugar herself and then retreated back to the table. She sat down, still watching him, her back stiff and straight, not even close to touching the back of the chair. After a moment of awkward silence, Billy managed to fix his own coffee, clumsy under her gaze and dropping spoons, knocking over cream and finally giving up, sitting down with a cup of what had turned into cream with coffee rather than the other way around. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Billy started at the sound of her voice, his hands clenching around the curve of the cup. “What?’ “This. You. Me.” Sarah’s voice was exasperated, as though it were all obvious enough. “What?” Billy wasn’t really in his best form that morning. “You take me out almost every other night for nearly a month, can barely bring yourself to touch me, let alone initiate anything intimate, and then suddenly last night you decide you should sleep with me. And then this morning, you’re...you’re twitchy! You obviously can’t wait to get me out of the house and its only good manners that’s kept you from suggesting I leave so far.” Billy was silent, reviewing the past month in his mind. Her voice had been even and logical and her gaze was the same as she watched him toy with a spoon and shift his weight about in his seat. She was right. He was being twitchy. Billy laid the spoon flat on the table and clenched his coffee cup again, trying to remain still. “You could have said no,” he finally said, his voice quiet. She sighed. Billy winced. He had sounded lame, even to himself, but there was no need for the exasperated sighs. “I know I could have. But...” her voice was soft and she looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes, and if Billy could have, he would have ripped his heart out and handed it to her right then. Anything to keep her from giving him that look that reminded him of the look Dom had given him when he’d said goodbye last year. “I really like you, Billy.” She really liked him. He really, really was an asshole. “And I thought...I guess that I thought that if I waited, you’d change. And last night...I thought things were changing...and I...I think I love you, but...” She thought she loved him. He was more than an asshole; he was the lowest, scummiest bit of scum to ever crawl the earth. Billy felt sick and forced himself to keep listening. “You’re waiting for someone too, aren’t you? And, well...there isn’t any point for me to wait around for you if you aren’t the one waiting for me. I’m don’t think I’d be able to do the hopelessly in love, forever waiting thing.” The sick feeling grew from Billy’s stomach until the entirety of him was consumed by it. She was so much stronger than him. *She* was going to walk out of his kitchen and out of his life and *she* was going to be okay. She wasn’t going to go fuck up friendships in an attempt to forget about losing a guy she’d never really had. Billy was suddenly violently envious of her. “Billy? Are...are you okay?” Her voice took on a concerned tone, and she reached out, grabbing his hand and shaking it a bit. “Billy?” Billy blinked, shook his head and looked at her. “I’m...I’m fine.” The words were slow and clumsy on his tongue. He’d never been good at breaking up. Always the one to be broken up with, never the one to break up. I’m such shit at relationships, Billy thought desolately. “You sure?” “Yeah.” He sighed and pulled his hand out of her grasp. “I’m just predominately fucked up, y’know?” She gave him a small, quavering smile. “Yeah. I guess a lot of us are.” She paused and added, tracing circles on the table with one finger, “You’re okay then?” “Eh.” Billy shrugged at her. “Not fantastic, but no worries about my jumping off a bridge tomorrow.” He smiled brightly at her. “So. You hungry? Shall I make some breakfast?” “No, no, I’m good.” She turned her eyes toward the clock on the wall. “It’s past ten, I should probably be going anyway.” She stood up abruptly from her chair and carried her coffee cup over to the sink and Billy watched her as she emptied it and rinsed it out, chattering on about how she needed to run into the office for a few hours that afternoon. He wasn’t sure if he was upset or not by the fact that she’d just broken up with him and was now skipping out on him without even allowing him to feed her a proper breakfast. He decided he wasn’t going to invest much emotion into it all and instead, walked her to the door and helped her with her coat. There was an awkward moment on the porch, Billy wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hug her goodbye or shake her hand or only just see her off with a wave of the hand. Finally, Sarah settled it with a hug and swish of the lips against his cheek and extracting his promise to call her sometime, because she’d like to stay friends, okay? And then she was gone and Billy was left alone and feeling it wholeheartedly. \--- Billy fulfilled his role at the dumped (rather than the dumper) over the course of the next week. He moped around, listened to schmaltzy love songs (and even sang along with his eyes closed), watched all of Titanic in one sitting, forgot to shave, and ate ice cream straight out of the carton for dinner whilst composing a song that he immediately tore up because it reminded him of a boy band on depressants. Finally, exactly a week after he’d been dumped, Billy caught a good glimpse of himself and his surroundings and after a long shower and a shave, got around to housecleaning. He hadn’t given the house a real cleaning for months and Billy was faintly disgusted with his own filthy habits as he cleaned out closet after closet and vacuumed under the beds. He had no real idea how he’d accumulated so much stuff over the years and vowed to give it away to charity and then retracted the vow because one never knew when one would need snowshoes or an extra entire set of encyclopedias and Billy knew he’d never forgive himself if he threw away his kindergarten diploma. So eventually it all went back into the boxes and into the closets from whence it came and Billy was right back to where he started. He didn’t mind though. Cleaning gave him something to do other than think about Sarah, his role as an asshole, and of course Dom who jumped into his mind whenever the opportunity arose. If anything, his attempt to rid himself of Dom’s memory had only made it stronger and the only time Billy could forget was when he was scrubbing or sorting or vacuuming while singing along with the radio at the top of his lungs. As a result, Billy took a week to clean the upstairs of his home (he went through the closets twice and nearly threw away a whole box load of papers the second time around, but got up in the middle of the night to rescue them) and it wasn’t until a full two weeks after Sarah that he was ready to start on the downstairs. The first floor of Billy’s was the aftermath of a hurricane compared to the cluttered atmosphere of the second. And while most people would have been discouraged by the mess and would have said, fuck it, and gone out for a drink, Billy was delighted at least another week of distraction and instead, loaded up on coffee and turned on the stereo before he started cleaning. He took care of the kitchen the first day - taking care of meaning, cleaned out all the cupboards, organized their contents by size and shape, cleared out the refrigerator and the pantry and restocked them both in alphabetical order, and mopped and waxed the floor. On the second day, he wasn’t out of energy yet and was ready to start on the living room after breakfast when he realized he hadn’t been out of his house in over two weeks. I’m becoming a recluse, Billy realized. Or something to that effect. It had been a slow year, he’d only done theatre and there wasn’t any need for him to hold a steady job. Pippin had taken care of monetary needs and theatre had only supplemented what he’d already had. And he’d finished his last play last month and no other opportunities had arisen. He’d ruined his relationship with Sarah (who he knew he’d never have the nerve to call again and who would never see any reason in calling him again) and he’d already lost contact with a lot of friends from before Rings because he’d been busy. Because he’d had the cast members to fill any voids back then. But now he was alone, cleaning his house like some sort of demented fool. He didn’t have anyone coming to see him; he didn’t have anyone to visit. He didn’t have a steady job to give him something to get up for in the mornings. He didn’t have any new scripts for him to peruse. He was living without meaning. He was completely and totally alone. Billy was beginning to disturb himself with the picture he had just drawn together of himself. When had he started to just let his life fall apart like this? he wondered, staring in shock at the pristine kitchen and feeling the bristle of an unshaved face against his fingers. He’d stopped shaving again early some time last week. He himself was starting to fall apart. It was a scary thought for Billy. Slowly, painfully, he tried to piece together the fragments of his life, tried to figure out where he’d screwed up. And it all came back to Dom. It always came back to Dom. Heartbroken and terrified of what he’d become, what he was becoming, Billy slowly stood up from the kitchen table and started to gather up his breakfast dishes. He’d go out today. He’d take a shower, shave, get dressed and go out. He’d go round the shops and pick out a new CD, stock up on groceries, and go out to lunch at a restaurant he’d never been to before. He’d look for a new book, he’d find a book on a something he’d always wanted to learn, maybe a new language. Yes, he decided, he’d find a book about France, maybe, and by the end of the year he’d be able to converse in French. That was a good idea. Frantically, Billy’s hands scrubbed at the breakfast dishes and his mind raced as he tried to think on how to fill this day and the days ahead. Maybe he’d adopt a puppy from an animal shelter. He’d always wanted a dog, had always been jealous of boys and their dogs in movies and books. He’d- The sound of the phone ringing tore Billy out of his half-hysterical planning and he stood still for a minute, staring at the ringing phone, his heart pounding and his hands immersed in soapy water. He hadn’t had a phone call from anyone but solicitors in eons it felt. Slowly, his hands dripping water, Billy reached for the phone. His wet fingers closed around it, the plastic slippery in his grasp. Slower than slow, Billy brought the phone to his ear; soap and water running coldly down his wrist and forearm. “H-Hello?” “Hey Bill! Haven’t spoken to you in a while, what’s up?” And Billy almost went into a catatonic state as his other hand went up to grip to the phone closer to his ear and he said, nearly whispered, “Dom? Is that you?” -TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

“Dumb ass.” Billy’s heart sank at the sound of familiar snickering. “It’s Lij.”

“Right. It’s...it’s been a while.” Billy sighed and tried to force some interest into his voice as he said, “So. What’ve you been up to?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Boyd.” Billy raised an eyebrow at Elijah’s tone and despite himself, an amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Elijah.”

“Billy.”

“Must we start every conversation as though we are in the middle of an argument?” The amused smile was a full-fledged grin by now as he heard Elijah’s exasperated sigh and saw the eye roll, miles away. “I’ve barely said hello to you and already, I’m being accused of bullshit.”

“Well. You’re full of it.” Billy muffled a chuckle behind his hand at Elijah’s petulant, grade school response and he knew that if he could see Elijah, Elijah would have his tongue out at him by now. Suddenly, Billy was swept over by an intense longing for Elijah and Sean and Orli and Dom (no surprise there, Billy admitted ruefully) and New Zealand sunrises and the awkward weight of prosthetics on his feet. His heart gave a pathetic twist and Billy honestly expected to be bawling in a few seconds, every bit of him felt as though it were balanced on pins and on the verge of falling, delicate shards on the ground.

Billy could hear the sound of paper crinkling and then the slow, steady rhythm of chewing and snapping. Gum. Hadn’t anyone ever taught Elijah any telephone etiquette? Billy said as much to Elijah and was rewarded with a symphony of gum-snapping, bubble-blowing, bubble-popping, and a chomping noise that resembled that of a cow and its cud. “God damn it, Lij, did you just call to chew gum in my ear?”

“I saw a picture of you and a girl in a magazine,” Elijah said bluntly. Billy was silent and for a full, long minute, the only sound was soft breathing and Elijah’s gum-chewing, slightly more subdued now.

“I don’t remember having my picture taken,” Billy said, finally.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look like you knew it was. You were crossing the street, holding her hand. They had you at a weird angle, made it look at though your head was about to fall off your neck.”

“Thanks.” Sarcasm was laid thickly on the word and an embarrassed silence emanated from Elijah’s end. “What the fuck are you doing looking at that shite anyway?”

“I wasn’t looking at it!” Elijah’s voice was defensive enough that Billy believed him. Sort of.

“If you weren’t looking at it, how’d you see a picture?”

“How d’you think? Dom showed me it.”

Oh.

The defensive note dropped from Elijah’s voice and what he said next was spoken gently, sympathetically. “You know, he follows you in papers and magazines and stuff.”

“Yeah. Just like he does for you, and Orli, and Liv, and-,”

“But he doesn’t weed me for information about them like he does for you. I can’t talk to him for more than a minute before its ‘have you heard from Billy lately?’ Constantly, it’s your name, that’s all I hear from him - damn it, Billy, why haven’t you called him?”

“Why hasn’t he called me?” Billy’s voice was quiet and gravelly, his words sounding like nails scraped painfully across a blackboard to his ears. “Tell me, Lij. Why hasn’t Dom called *me*?”

“I...I don’t know. He won’t tell me what happened. Nobody knows what happened.” Elijah hesitated for a moment, and then took a deep breath as though sucking in bravery along with oxygen and said, “What happened Billy?”

Billy closed his eyes, rested the phone against his forehead. The tears he almost shed before were pricking violently at his eyes and he took several long, shuddering breaths that sent his whole upper body shaking. From the phone, he could hear the faint sound of a bubble popping. Elijah was waiting for an answer.

Slowly, Billy brought the phone back to his ear. He ground his teeth for a minute into the receiver, and then let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know, Lij. I really don’t know.”

\---

After his conversation with Elijah, Billy found himself at a loss as to what to do with himself. All his previous inspiration and enthusiasm seemed to have died when the phone rang. For a while, he wandered in an almost dreamlike trance, finishing the dishes and straightening blinds and plumping pillows. The stereo was switched on as if by magic, Billy having no recollection of touching any of the buttons or choosing a CD, but suddenly the first floor was flooded with hard, heavy rock.

In his same dazed state, Billy pushed the furniture away from the center of the room, back toward the walls of the living room. The rug was rolled up and kicked to the side, leaving the faded wood floor bare. Off went Billy’s socks and up went the volume of the stereo. Billy migrated toward the center of the cleared room and with his eyes closed, slowly stretched down to touch his toes.

It had been a long while since Billy had worked out in this manner. The most exercise he’d been getting lately was cleaning and walking from his front door to his car and he was regretting it now as his tight muscles screamed in protest to the positions he was forcing them into. Slowly, painfully his body began remembering the fluid movements of old and after an almost obscene amount of time spent stretching, Billy was able to touch his forehead to the floor, almost stretch to a full split.

As he leaned forward again, his legs spread out as far as they could go, his hands reaching out in front of him, bracing him, Billy smiled. His forehead brushed against the wooden floor and he held the position, breathing in slowly and evenly, as his muscles complained loudly at the exercise. Dom had liked yoga. Had liked to show off (Dom insisted he wasn’t a show-off and he maybe he wasn’t, but Billy knew for a fact that when Dom twisted into some odd position, he was doing something very close to showing off for Billy) his flexibility. He’d like trying to force the others into joining him, into greeting the sun or whatever Dom’s particular regime was at the moment. If Dom was lucky, he’d have the remaining three hobbits rolling and groaning on the floor of his flat, trying to imitate whatever position he was displaying for them. Billy knew he picked difficult ones purposely. And he knew that it drove Dom crazy that Billy could almost keep up with him.

This discovery of Billy’s flexibility was something Dom had put to good use often in later days.

Quickly, Billy pulled his body out of his stretching position and leapt to his feet. He shook his legs out, shook his head, trying to push the thought of Dom away from his mind. Assuming ready position, his fists clenched tighter than usual and the muscles in his jaw working frantically as he tried to concentrate.

 _Nobody knows what happened. What happened Billy?_ Basic front, roundhouse, jab, jab, cross, cross, what happened, how many times have I asked myself, what happened?

 _I don’t know, Lij. I really don’t know._ Snap front, roundhouse, spinning back fist, stop thinking, don’t think.

 _Constantly, it’s your name, that’s all I hear from him._ Jab, cross, jab, cross, damn it, damn it, damn it, my name, all he hears, my name, my name, my goddamn name.

 _Why hasn’t Dom called *me*?_ Concentrate Boyd, concentrate, don’t take your eyes off your opponent, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate...

And Billy let out his kill scream and lunged at his invisible opponent.

\---

There was a message on his phone when Billy got out of the shower. It was probably from Elijah, Billy thought, glancing at the machine, as he got dressed. Probably from Elijah telling him he’d found a new CD and was sending it to him or that he’d just read a really fantastic book and that Billy HAD to read it so he was sending that. Presents as an apology for upsetting Billy. A wry smile twisted at Billy’s lips. He should be the one sending Elijah books and CDs. He was an asshole. Elijah was great. He should probably call Elijah and tell him that.

Or maybe the message *wasn’t* from Elijah, Billy contemplated. No, it probably wasn’t. Elijah was probably busy (or asleep, which was much more likely); he didn’t have time for pathetic, geeky little gestures of apology and affection anymore. Billy sighed. He missed that about Elijah. He missed a lot of things. Another sigh. He didn’t want to listen to the message. It would only depress him. If it wasn’t from Elijah, it was quite likely from Sean who had spoken with Elijah. And had probably decided he was on the verge of suicide. Billy almost laughed, thinking of an encouraging, ‘suicide is a permanent solution for temporary problems’ message from Sean. Sometimes Billy wondered if Sean was born grown-up and spouting fatherly wisdom.

A number one was glowing at him. He should listen to the message. It would hang over his head all day if he didn’t. Like when he didn’t check his mail right at two o’clock. Wondering what came, what does it say?

God damn it, he’s listening to the message. Billy hit play and then retreated a few steps away from the machine, as though it would bite him or shoot fire at him or something.

“Hey Billy, it’s...it’s, um, me. Me being Dominic, that is.”

Billy was busy trying to force his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belonged, thus missing the remainder of the message. Dom had called and he hadn’t been able to pick up the goddamn phone. Goddamn noisy shower. Billy made a note to start taking baths and hit playback, his breath held as though breathing would break the spell, that Dom’s message would evaporate as though it had never been at all.

“Hey Billy, it’s...it’s, um, me. Me being Dominic, that is. So...um...yeah. Shit, this is awkward; I hate talking to machines, its like talking to the goddamn microwave or something. So just...just call me when you get in. You know my cell. Bye, then.”

That was it? Billy gave the machine an accusing look. Just a call me? No, I miss you, I want to talk to you, not even a simple goddamn, it’s been a while, how’re you doing? Billy glared at the answering machine and very nearly hissed at it. Dom was right, he might as well talk to the goddamn microwave because the answering machine didn’t even make your food hot, all it did was give you cryptic messages and none of the answers he really wanted.

Billy sighed, turned his glare away from the answering machine. Dom was a fucking cow to call him like this, that’s what he was. Call him like a year hadn’t passed between them. Calling like they’d parted on the best of terms last year. Calling him and sounding as though he hadn’t been pining, isolating himself, moping about in his own misery just like Billy was. A fucking cow to have moved on with his goddamn life.

Billy wanted to hate him then and he very nearly succeeded at it. But. It was Dom. And Dom had called him. And Dom had said call back. Dom wouldn’t have said for Billy to call if he didn’t mean for Billy to call. Would he?

No, Billy decided, he wouldn’t.

And it would be rude for Billy not return Dom’s call. Billy was nothing if not polite. He was as polite as Elijah was geeky. Which was, if you knew Elijah, to say very. And Billy knew Elijah. And he knew Dom too. And he knew that Dom would be hurt, disappointed if Billy did not call back.

...But Billy wasn’t ready to call Dom. Hearing his voice, faintly tinny-sounding on the answering machine, had been bad enough, had nearly given Billy a heart attack. He wasn’t ready to call Dominic back. He wasn’t ready to hear his voice, to hear his laugh or his tears. He wasn’t ready for any of it.

He would call back after lunch, Billy decided. Because he was going out for lunch to a new restaurant he’d never been to before, just like he’d decided that morning. And then he was going to go round the shops, pick up a new book or CD or possibly both. Hadn’t he toyed with the idea of a dog, too? Yes, he had much to do before he could even begin to think about Dom. Hours worth of things to do before calling Dom. In fact, it’d probably be dinner time or near that when he got back and he couldn’t call Dom at dinner, interrupt him while he was eating and conversing with friends or family (or maybe a more-than-friend, Billy added to his thought, and his stomach lurched painfully at the words). And after dinner, he’d have to do the dishes and watch a bit of TV, let his stomach settle before he thought about using the phone. And then it would be bedtime.

Yes, Billy thought with a pang of mock-regret and one of true relief, he wouldn’t have time to call Dom back until tomorrow. Truly, such a shame, that was. Truly, truly, indeed.

\---

Two days later and Billy still hadn’t called Dominic back. Before, the days had stretched endlessly, long, massive amounts of space and time that needed filling. But now, now that he knew he had a duty to call, it seemed there wasn’t enough time. He’d never realized before how long it took to clean the bathroom, how long he could spend browsing in bookstores or how many restaurants he’d never visited. He’d never realized before how imperative it was to go through your address book and throw out old addresses and cross out old cell numbers and write in numbers and addresses off invitations and business cards in properly. He’d never realized what a great deal of people he should call, how badly he’d needed to catch up with his sister, his old drinking buddies, his great-aunt-twice-removed and her six cats. Such a great lot of people to call, such a great lot of places to go and things to do, it was a wonder Billy had to sleep or eat or even breathe.

And Dom couldn’t *really* expect Billy to call him when there was a Hitchcock marathon on, could he? Nobody could really say they’d *lived* unless they’d seen Psycho three times. And he couldn’t expect Billy to call when he was busy reading Shakespeare, nobody just *puts* Shakespeare down to make a phone call. Really, if Dom was expecting Billy to just drop everything and call, he was really a bit full of himself, wasn’t he?

At least that’s what Billy told himself whenever the thought of Dom and calling him arose, which was about every two minutes. He had a million excuses tucked away, excuses he hadn’t used since his days of my-dog-ate-my-homework. He had laundry to do. He had a dentist appointment. He had this and that and about a thousand other things to do that were more important, more urgent then calling Dom.

If he kept telling himself that, Billy figured he would eventually believe it. Only he didn’t believe it, no matter how many times he told himself that it wasn’t really that important. Because it was. To Billy, anyway. Important enough to make up a million excuses about why it wasn’t.

Which was why Billy had finally shut up and done something. He had gone to his room, closed the door for privacy (which was stupid because he lived alone and hadn’t bought a dog but had instead picked up a fat, dull goldfish named Frodo that was now swimming placidly in a little bowl on his kitchen counter - all beside the point which was, Billy was stupid for shutting his door in order to have privacy that already existed in every area of his house), and dialed Dom’s number. While the phone was ringing, Billy was concentrating on what to say. He figured he’d start off casually - hi Dom would do the trick. And then he’d...he’d...well, first he’d see what Dom said back. If Dom just said hi back, then it was up to Billy to start the conversation, in which case Billy would ask how are you? And if Dom said what’s up, Billy could very proudly report he owned a goldfish now and had organized his sock drawer by color and texture last week. No, no, he couldn’t say that. That was stupid, that was pathetic. What he could say was-

“Hello?”

Billy froze at the sound of Dom’s voice. His fingers curled, tense and frozen around the receiver, turned white from the pressure he was exerting. He expected the phone to break under his grasp, expected his heart to explode from the rapid pace at which it was beating, expected everything to come to a complete and utter halt.

“Helllooo?” Dom dragged the word out, slightly irritated. Billy’s heart pounded harder, if that was possible, and waited for the inevitable click of a phone hanging up to come. But it didn’t. Instead, he heard Dom suck in his breath sharply (and very nearly *saw* him open his eyes wide, despite the fact they were miles apart) and say, “Billy? Is that you?”

Billy croaked out something unintelligible in response.

“Huh? Billy?”

“Yes, yes, this is he. I’m him. I mean, I mean...I mean hi.” Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the bloody saints, could he have sounded any more pitiable, could he have sounded any more mad?

Fortunately, Dom didn’t seem to think that because he only gave a warm chuckle and said, “Hey, Billy. What’ve you been up to lately?”

All of Billy’s senses left him then. Instead of saying something smooth and casual about Sarah (and tactfully omitting the fact she’d dumped him), instead of sounding successful and experienced by mentioning his theatre work, he said, “I’ve adopted a goldfish and named it Frodo.”

Billy was horrified by the words that had just come out of his mouth and longed for a deep, black hole to open up in the center of his bed and swallow him whole.

On the other end of the phone, Dom laughed. Not a mocking, ‘fuck, you’re so pathetic, I deserve a medal for speaking with you’ sort of laugh, but more of a mildly surprised, amused laugh. “I’m sure Lij will be pleased to hear that.”

Lij will be pleased to receive the slap upside the head Billy was planning on giving him next time he saw him as well, Billy decided. Call Dom indeed, why did he even bother listening to Elijah, he could make a fool of himself on his own, thanksverymuch.

Instead of saying all that, Billy only gave a hollow laugh back. There was a long, awkward moment of silence then, a silence that gave Billy time enough to regain his senses (or what remained of them) and say, “What about you? What’re you doing?”

“Waiting for Elijah to come back with a video and dinner. Stupid twat probably lost himself somewhere. I’ll be receiving a frantic phone call any minute now.”

Dom was waiting for Elijah? Billy’s forehead wrinkled at this thought. “Where are you guys?”

“England. London, to be exact.” Shit, he was closer than Billy had thought. “I was visiting my family, and then Elijah called up and said meet me in London - so I met him in London. He was meeting with some directors or something...but, you know this, he called you before right?” No, actually Billy hadn’t known this, Elijah never told him anything of importance, only raked on him for not having a proper love life. Billy didn’t tell Dom that either, though, only sat silently. He could hear Dom shifting about on the other end, in some shitty London hotel because Lij was too cheap to spring for a decent one. He should probably say something, Billy reflected, but hesitated to. He might mention the sock drawer.

Dom took a deep breath and Billy, again, could almost see him. But instead of widening his eyes, Billy saw (almost-saw) Dom run his hand through his hair, already rumpled strands standing up on end. Billy’s heart gave an unexpected, sentimental tug and the longing to smooth the strands back into place arose. “Lij told me to call you, you know.”

“He...he did?”

“Yeah. He...I don’t know why he said it.”

“You didn’t have to listen to him.”

“I guess that I didn’t.”

Another long silence arose between them. Billy found himself remembering in the days of old, watching a movie on the phone with Dom, pausing it for a piss or for a popcorn break or for whatever reason. Stopping it halfway through because it was so terrible or because Dom’s running commentary had him laughing so hard, he’d missed all the important bits anyway. Billy felt the inescapable urge to cry then, to cry and to shout into the phone, ask this tense stranger, what’s happened? What’ve you done with my Dominic, I’d like him back, please.

But he didn’t.

Instead he said something meaningless about the book he was reading and was answered with a noncommittal ‘hm’ from Dom. Frantically, Billy reached for another topic to talk about, something to grab Dom’s interest, something to keep him on the line longer, but while he was searching his mind for something that had nothing to do with sock drawer, Dom spoke up. “Hey, Billy.”

“Hey Dommie.”

Billy could almost hear Dom’s slow smile. “Heh. No one’s called me that for a while.”

“Sor-,”

“No, no don’t apologize.” Dom took a deep breath and then said quietly, quickly, “I’m going to be in Scotland on Wednesday. For a couple days.”

“Yeah?” Billy’s voice was quiet too, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, he’d break the spell that had settled over them. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t anywhere close to being the same, but...but it was better than it had been five minutes ago. And Billy was grateful for that little bit.

“And I was wondering if...if...if it’d all right if I crashed at your place while I was there.”

“That would be...” (great, wonderful, fantastic, what I want more than anything, heaven it’s bloody self) “...fine.”

“Oh. Good.” Billy heard Dom’s sigh of relief, his relieved smile. He hated hearing it. Dom shouldn’t be relieved that Billy said fine. Dom shouldn’t have had to even ask, he should have just shown up at Billy’s doorstep like he would have at any other time.

But it wasn’t any other time, it was now and now Dom had to ask permission before he showed up on Billy’s doorstep. A sick feeling began to creep up in Billy’s stomach and he was seized with the urge to dash the phone against the wall, to watch it splinter into a million pieces.

“Well...I guess that I’ll see you then?”

“I guess so.”

“...Take care now.”

“I will. Bye, Dom.”

“¡Adios, muchacho!” Billy gave a small smile at Dom’s crap Spanish accent and Dom laughed briefly. “Bye, Bill.”

“Bye Dom,” Billy repeated, and then Dom hung up, and left Billy sitting on his bed, the cold click of Dom’s hang-up ringing his mind. He was silent for a long, long minute, listening to the whining of the dial tone.

And then Billy took the receiver and dashed it against the wall with all his strength until he saw it splinter into a million pieces.

-TBC-


	3. Chapter 3

Billy was met with an interesting and not entirely unpleasant sight when he went out to get his paper on Monday morning. There was a man kneeling his flower bed. A tow-headed man wearing a shirt Billy recognized because it had once been his own. A man surrounded by far too many bags to just be ‘crashing’ at his place.

Billy’s heart thudded loudly in his chest as he managed to walk toward the flower bed. Each step wrenched painfully at him and he paused a foot or so from Dom, trying to regain his courage, his capacity to speak. The paper dangled awkwardly from his fingers. Pathetic, Billy thought, and he made an unintelligible sound toward Dom.

And then, suddenly, Billy’s vision was flooded by gray eyes, blond-brown hair, wilted flowers, and an angry voice assaulted his ears. “BILLY BOYD! What. Is. THIS?! Why are the flowers, *our* flowers dead?!” Dom’s eyes were reproachful, hurt as they locked on Billy’s. Billy took a step back, his eyes wide. Dom took a step forward, closing the distance between them again, and waved the flowers in Billy’s face, brown wrinkled petals falling down to the ground. Dom glared and repeated his question, his tone unhappy at the lack of response. “Why are our flowers dead, Billy?”

Silently, Billy reached out. The tips of his fingers brushed at the brown, wilted flowers in what was almost a lover’s caress. His eyes were filled with a sad sort of calm as they watched the flowers crumble and fall beneath his touch. “I’ve been busy,” he said (lied). He glanced up at Dom, found the expression on his face unreadable and painful to see and quickly brought his eyes down to gaze at Dom’s feet. It was easier to look at something small and insignificant, easier to ignore the complex emotions playing out in Dom’s face and eyes that mirrored what he knew must be apparent in his own. Dom had migrated from his hands to his feet, Billy noted dully as he read the words “hobbit” and “splinter” off the toe of Dom’s shoe. A smile twitched at his lips.

“Stop it!” Dom ordered and hit him across the shoulder with the dead flowers, raining shriveled petals and dirt down Billy’s shirt. Billy looked up at him, surprised. Dom’s jaw set determinedly and he said crossly, “It was you who wanted the garden so bad.”

“Badly. I wanted the garden so badly,” Billy correct automatically. Dom glared furiously at him and Billy shriveled like the flowers under his gaze. He transferred his gaze to the wilted flowerbed, tried to ignore the holes Dom was boring into his skull. “A garden?”

Dom nodded. “Don’t you remember? You’ve got to remember!” Anger was gone, a sort of despair in its place. “When I visited last year?”

Billy looked at him. Yes, he wanted to say, but as he stared at Dom, he found the word stuck to the tip of his tongue. I remember, he wanted to cry, but even looking at Dom was becoming painful, and at last, Billy said nothing and looked away.

\---

_The sun is warm on the back of Billy’s neck and his knees are killing him as he kneels in the soft warm dirt of his front yard. He’s up to his elbows in dirt and he isn’t sure if he’s working the trowel right and he’s not quite sure where he put the bag of mulch. “Dom? Oi, Dommie, do you remember where I put that bag of mulch?” No answer. “Dom?”_

_Billy frowns and turns his head to see Dom sprawled out on his stomach in the grass, his arms folded under his chin. He sighs. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”_

_“Shh,” Dom shushes Billy and shoots him an admonishing look. Billy is quiet and he watches as Dom’s eyes focus on something that Billy can’t see. Dom smiles and his eyes lift to meet Billy’s. Dom winks at him. Billy smiles back and crawls over, on his hands and knees, despite the pain shooting up his thighs, and flops down on his stomach next to Dom. He’s eye-level with the tall blades of grass now (Christ, but does he need to cut this lawn) and he can see what Dom’s fascinated with._

_A cricket._

_“Do you know,” Dom whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “crickets are good luck?”_

_“I thought ladybugs were,” Billy whispers back._

_“Well they are. But crickets are better.” Dom’s hand reaches out and clenches Billy’s forearm, a signal for him to stay still. “Shh. Maybe he’ll sing for us, eh?”_

_Billy sighs and rolls his eyes at Dom and sits up. The sudden movement shocks the insect and the cricket hops away. Dom frowns up at him and pokes him in the thigh. “What’d you hafta go and do *that* for?”_

_“We’ve got to get these flowers planted before dark,” Billy insists._

_“We don’t have to do *anything*.”_

_“Dom. The flowers.”_

_“Billy.” Dom arches an eyebrow up at him and then melts into a smile. “Okay. I’ll help with the flowers. I’ll go find a...a...a diggy-thing-,”_

_“A trowel?” Billy supplies helpfully._

_“Yes. A trowel of a diggy-thing. And I’ll grab some cold beers. And then I will help you plant the flowers I so wonderfully helped pick out.”_

_“You do that.” Billy gives him a dry smile. Dom beams and presses a quick kiss to Billy’s forehead._

_“Back in a flash.”_

_Half an hour later and Billy is doggedly digging away by himself, having discovered the misplaced bag of mulch and figured out that his shirt makes an excellent pillow for his knees and that the trowel is much more effective if used with a pair of gloves. And Dom has still not returned. Billy grinds his teeth irritably, throws down his trowel (of a diggy-thing, as Dom put it so eloquently) and gets up, dusting off his knees and wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving streaks of dirt across his face. He is going to find Dom. And yell at him for not bringing him a cold drink. And then yell at him for not helping with the planting. He would be done by now if Dom wasn’t such a goddamn procrastinator._

_Angrily, Billy makes his way into the house. Dom isn’t there. He’s not in the garage either or the side yard or the back. Billy returns to the front yard, having decided that not only is Dom a procrastinator, he’s an exceptionally good one, obviously having devised some errand that would magically get him out of planting. Billy grinds his teeth again. And then he sees him. Dom. Lying motionless in the middle of the lawn, his eyes closed, his chest moving slowly up and down in a deep, rhythmic motion._

_He’s been so quiet, Billy never noticed him._

_Glaring, Billy stomps his way off the porch and toward Dom. But the instant his shadow falls over Dom, Dom’s eyes snap open and he smiles up at Billy. Its a faraway, dreamy smile that tells Billy Dom’s been a million miles away and isn’t coming back too quickly. Its a smile that melts all of Billy’s anger and exhaustion away. “What are you doing?” he asks simply, defeated. He will never win against Dom._

_“Living.” Dom’s smiles widens and he scrambles to his feet, grabbing Billy’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “Have you been working with the stupid flowers all this time?”_

_“*Yes*,” Billy begins irritably, but is cut off by the light pressure of one finger pressed to his lips._

_Dom’s eyes are filled with laughter when he meets them. “Shh. Just be quiet, still for a moment, Bill.” And his arms slip around Billy’s waist and he pulls Billy along with him to where the garden hose is dripping slightly. Dom carefully, purposefully, sinks his foot into the muddy patch at the hose’s mouth. It makes a wonderful squelching sound and he grins and nudges Billy into the mud. Billy complies and Dom’s arms come back around his waist and his head rests on Billy’s bare shoulder._

_Billy is silent for a long moment then, his eyes closing slightly. The sun is warm on his hair, his body. The mud is cool and wet between his toes. And Dom’s breathing is coming in soft warm puffs against his bare skin._

_Somewhere in the yard, he can hear the chirping of a cricket._  
  
\---

Billy felt like an idiot, sitting on the bed in his spare room, watching Dom put away his things. His offers to help had been forcibly rejected and now he was at a loss of what to do, what to say. He scratched idly at a scratch on the back of his hand, wondered briefly where he’d gotten it, and then promptly forgot all about it. Dom was here.

Dom was here. In his house. In his spare room. And Billy could think of nothing to say to him.

It had been easy (well not *easy*, but less awkward for sure) at first. Dom had an excellent memory and he noticed all the changes from the obvious ones - you’ve finally gotten rid of that piss-ugly couch, good call, mate - to the lesser ones - didn’t that picture used to stand on the other side of the table? And he’d shown proper respect to Frodo the fish by tapping his finger lightly against the glass bowl and being rewarded with the dull, blank stare that seemed to be Frodo’s only talent other than eating. Billy was actually quite proud of the fact the fish hadn’t died yet, but had managed not to make an ass of himself by telling Dom that. At least, not yet. The way things were going, Billy was afraid that might have to be the next topic of conversation.

“So,” Billy began, feeling horribly uneasy with Dom and hating himself for feeling like that, “how’s your family?”

“Same as always. Bunch of fuckin’ nags, want to know why I haven’t settled down, why I don’t visit much, why I’m not bloody Princess Di.” Billy smiled to himself. Dom was so full of shit sometimes. Fuckin’ nags, his foot, Billy had some very fond memories of Dom sobbing into his shoulder: “I want to go hoooooome.”

“Mmm. Well. I’m sure they’re quite glad you’re not Princess Di despite what they say. Otherwise you’d be a woman and you’d be dead.”

“I think I’d make a lovely woman. Especially a dead one.” Dom grinned at him and sashayed from the bureau back to the bed where his suitcase was sitting beside Billy. Billy gave a snort of laughter and for a moment, things seemed normal again.

And then, somehow, everything fell apart again and Billy was left floundering desperately for a topic.

“Today’s Monday, you know,” he said finally.

“And the day before it was Sunday and the day after today will be Tuesday. This is a fun game Bill, give me another obvious fact.”

“Fucker.” Billy pelted a pillow at Dom’s head. “My point WAS, you said you’d be here on Wednesday.”

“Guess I lied.”

“Stop being such a bloody cunt, you must’ve had a reason.”

“I didn’t.”

Billy narrowed his eyes at him. Dom threw the pillow back at him and he dodged it, asking, “But what if I hadn’t been here? What if I’d been away and planning to come back Tuesday night?”

“I would’ve slept on your porch then, I suppose.”

“Martyr. Or what if I’d had somebody over, would have made for an awkward situation, don’t you think?”

Dom turned around and Billy watched, amused, as he folded, unfolded, and refolded the same pair of jeans several times. “If you’d had somebody over I probably would have throttled the bastard (or bitch, depending on your preference at the moment) and then hid in the corner and sobbed my bleeding eyes out. Is that what you wanted to hear, Billy? Because its true.” Dom looked at him, unconsciously twisting the jeans tighter and tighter in his hands. He wasn’t sad or angry, wasn’t really agitated at all. He was very matter-of-fact and the only thing that made Billy think he was telling the truth was the way he went on wringing his jeans desperately in his hands.

Billy sighed and bowed his head, a hand coming up to rub at his forehead slightly. “Is this why you’re here, Dom? To fight?”

“Well. You started it, Mr. Spanish Inquisition,” Dom retorted and slammed the jeans (unfolded) into a drawer. He banged it shut and then kicked the dresser. A dent and black mark appeared and Dom’s face paled. “Shit, Billy, I’m sorry. I haven’t even been here and hour and I’m ruining furniture. I...I’m sorry.”

“Its okay,” Billy reassured him and got up off the bed, standing beside Dom and surveying the damage. He wanted to tell Dom that it was okay, he’d never liked the piece anyway, but that was a lie. He actually quite liked the piece, had fought another customer for it. But another look at Dom’s pale, distraught face and he decided against it, decided against ever mentioning the piece to him ever again. He wasn’t here to quarrel over furniture.

At least, Billy didn’t think so. But he didn’t really have a clue as to why Dom was here. And it was would be like Dom to travel to another country just to kick somebody’s bureau and then fight over it.

“Hey,” Dom said after a few minutes, nudging Billy in the ribs with his elbow. “We’ve never said hi.”

“What?” Billy looked at him, confused.

Dom sighed and held out his hand. “Hello Billy. It’s been a while. Good to see you.”

“Oh.” Billy caught on, reached out and grabbed Dom’s hand. “Good to see you too. How’ve you been?”

“Okay.” Dom was still holding his hand and slowly, Billy made to withdraw it. He was stopped abruptly though as Dom jerked him forward and wrapped his free arm around Billy’s shoulders, buried his head against Billy’s neck.

“Dom?” Billy whispered his name, his free hand patting clumsily at Dom’s back. “You sure you okay?”

Dom’s response was muffled by Billy’s neck.

“Pardon?”

“I said...” Dom lifted his head away from Billy and said clearly, “I missed you.”

Okay. Obviously not here to fight with Billy about furniture. Billy crossed that off his list of Potential Reason Why Dom is Here and sighed, holding Dom closer. “I missed you too.”

And maybe it was just his imagination, but Billy thought he could hear a cricket chirping.

\---

Over the next three days, Billy was able to cross the following reasons off his list of Potential Reasons Why Dom is Here:  


  

  * Food. Because Dom had eaten nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches since arriving. Billy was beginning to worry.  
  

  * The sights. Because Billy was pretty sure that a trip for petrol and groceries wasn’t anything to write to the folks back home about.  
  

  * Sex. For reasons obvious enough.  
  

  * Billy was better company than Elijah. Because Billy didn’t listen to stupid American boy bands and didn’t smoke like a chimney and actually had some intelligence and culture about him and his eyes were not blue but were green which was indefinitely better (and no, Billy was not jealous of Lij. Not in the slightest, who would jealous of short, loud-mouthed, blue-eyed, nerd? To which Dom had replied, you’re short, I’m loud, we’ve both got non-blue eyes in genetic terms, AND nerd is a very ambiguous phrase, care to elaborate on that, O Articulate One? And Billy had simply mumbled, shove it, you tosser, and crossed the option in question off his list).  
  

  * Scotland was better than England. That didn’t really count as a reason. Because of course Scotland was better than England, anyone with half of a half of a brain knew that. So Billy crossed that off his list without further thought and ignored the logical side of his mind which suggested that perhaps he was a wee bit biased? Billy was becoming quite good at ignoring the logical side of, well, everything.  




  
Billy was running out of reason as to why Dom had come. In fact, he had only one reason left, the reason he hadn’t really wanted to think about at all. Dom had missed him. And Dom wanted to know what had happened. (So maybe that was two reasons. Billy wasn’t sure, they seemed to go together pretty well. But he and Dom had seemed to go together pretty well. And look at them now).

It was shortly after this revelation that Billy decided to fuck the list and went out and got pissed instead.

Getting pissed, absolutely and completely pissed was the easiest and simplest way for Billy to cope at the moment. He couldn’t clean anymore, not only was his home completely spotless, but there was Dom. And he’d already made himself look like an ass by abruptly leaving Dom in the middle of a conversation to go tap on the side of Frodo’s fishbowl to make sure he wasn’t sleeping or dead, but was getting his daily exercise. There was no need for further display of ass-tendencies by turning the house upside down again in his frantic cleaning.

He should have just gotten the dog.

It was the lack of cleaning and effort to prove himself (how he didn’t know because, like most people, Billy didn’t make an especially appealing drunkard) to Dom, he decided to get pissed. A stupid choice in the long run, one that left him with a pounding headache, a foul taste in his mouth, and horrible foggy memories of re-enacting Titanic for Dom - and the rest of the bar. (Why, oh WHY, had he watched that movie? He wasn’t a fucking girl for Christ’s sake.)

Billy wasn’t even sure why he’d suggested they go out. They’d been doing fine (horribly) on their own with whatever movie that was on T.V. that night and dinner in their laps, Billy’s being whatever he could make in five minutes or less and Dom’s three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chocolate milk, an singularly disgusting meal picked up from Elijah to Billy’s eyes. Yes. Two hours of silence, save for the crap dialogue of the movie and the sounds of Dom blowing bubbles in chocolate milk, leading Billy to believe that Dom had regressed back to the fifth grade, and then the awkward good night once the movie was over.

They were doing excellently on their own. Right. If you were about eighty years old, they were. When Billy had put the past few nights into perspective, a few beers at the local pub suddenly seemed like a stunningly attractive idea and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.

Dom wasn’t quite so thrilled though. “I won’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know ME.” Billy was already suffering so from downgrading of lover to best friend to acquaintance that this new demoting to chopped liver was severely and painfully felt.

“I meant BESIDES you, you silly wanker.”

“You didn’t know anyone but me and the cast in New Zealand.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“Dunno. Just was.”

“Dom, *you’re* the silly wanker. Get your coat and meet me in the car in five minutes.” Billy started to turn then to leave, but was stopped by the slow jutting out of Dom’s lower lip. He was going to pout at him. Billy sighed and turned back to Dom. “What is it?”

“I want to eat before we go,” Dom said and his tone was that of a child stalling for time before he goes to something he finds particularly unpleasant such as church or Mummy’s friend’s place for tea.

Billy didn’t even dignify that with a response, only marched into the kitchen and marched straight back out with a foil-wrapped package in his hand that he thrust rudely at Dom. “What’s this?” Dom took it cautiously.

“Food. You can eat it in the car. Let’s go.”

“What kind of food?” Still stalling. Fucking cow.

“Well. It’s NOT a peanut butter sandwich. I bloody hate peanut butter.”

Dom slowly cracked a grin at Billy’s exasperation and peeled back the foil wrapper. “Butter and jam?”

“Get in the goddamn car! NOW!”

Dom got in the goddamn car.

\---

“I remember what she said now.”

Dom sighed and rolled his eyes, giving Billy an askance look as he turned onto Billy’s street. They’d made it home safe enough and Dom had thought Billy was asleep and that now he only had to worry about getting Billy as far as the sofa. But now Billy was awake.

He hoped Billy wouldn’t start singing again.

“What’d she say?”

“At t’end of the movie.” Billy’s voice was vague and unfocused as Dom pulled into the driveway and he submitted demurely to being led (dragged, actually), up the walk and into the house. “She said...” his train of thought kept slipping from his grasp and he swore quietly. “Fuck. I forgot.”

“S’okay, you can tell me all about it in the morning,” Dom assured him. Dilemma. Should he leave Billy on the sofa or drag him upstairs to his bed? Dom glanced at the other man and figured he was being docile enough, might as well bring him all the way upstairs. “C’mon, upstairs to bed we go.” Dom pulled Billy’s limp body along with him.

“Get off, I can walk.” His words were muted, slurred, his accent thick and heavy.

“I know.” Dom didn’t loosen his hold on Billy.

They were at the top of the stairs. Excellent. Now all he had to do was propel Billy into the bedroom, tip him into the bed and allow sleep and time to do its magic. “Dommie.”

“What is it, Bill?” Dom stopped in the doorway to Billy’s bedroom, still half-supporting Billy with his arm.

“I’ll never let go. S’what she said.”

Dom bit back an exasperated groan. “That’s very nice, now why don’t you just stagger over to the bed now, and-,”

“Shouldn’t’ve let go. M’fuckin’ arse.”

“Billy, what’re you talking about?”

“Stupid fucking arse. Shouldn’t’ve let go, never, never, stupid, shouldn’t’ve...”

“Billy, you’re not making any sense.”

Billy’s hand clenched Dom’s arm, his fingers digging painfully into Dom’s flesh. “Dom.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go. Stay with me.”

Dom stared at him. Sighed. “You’re drunk off your fucking ass, Boyd.”

“Please.” Billy swayed, took an unsteady step forward.

“Billy-,”

“*Please*.”

Dom gave another sigh. Maybe Billy would be too drunk to remember any of this in the morning. Nothing would happen. He would just stay, watch Billy fall asleep and then go to his own bed. Nothing would come of it.

Billy’s hand slid down his arm, found his hand, clenched it tightly, the gesture as pleading as any words he could say. Green eyes regarded Dom solemnly. “Okay,” Dom relented. “But only for a little-,” Dom’s voice broke off at the light in Billy’s eyes.

It didn’t mean a thing. Nothing would happen, he reminded himself. Nothing at all.

 

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

“Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Boyd,” Dom instructed. Sluggishly, Billy slid out of bed, stumbled over to the mirror hanging over the bureau. “Take a very long, very hard look at yourself.”

Billy was pleased to discover that he looked about twice as bad as he felt. “Bleh.” He stuck his tongue out at his reflection.

“Now...would YOU have slept with you last night?”

Billy grimaced at his reflection again. Bloodshot eyes. Rumpled hair sticking out in all directions. Creases from his pillow in brilliant red lines across his face. And was that spit dried in the corner of his mouth? Billy rubbed the back of his hand surreptitiously at the corner of his mouth, groaning. His head hurt. Regular poster boy, he was. “Guess not,” he answered Dom, a tad ruefully, but truthful nonetheless.

“Yeah. Well I wouldn’t’ve either. So that answers your question then, doesn’t it?”

“You didn’t have to put it like THAT, you bloody minger.” Billy scowled at him as best as his pounding head would allow before sinking to the ground. Shit. His legs felt as though they’d turned to gelatin beneath him. There was no way he was ever going to get up again. “M’head hurts.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that.” Dom gave an all-knowing smirk to Billy as he slid out of bed, tennis shoed feet and long legs in rumpled jeans appearing first, followed by an equally rumpled t-shirt proclaiming ‘eat a beaver, save a tree’. Dom stretched and tilted his head. It sounded as though every bone in his body cracked at that maneuver and Billy let out a little whimper of pain. “Poor Billy,” Dom said sympathetically.

“Poor, poor Billy,” Billy agreed from his spot on the floor. He slid further down until he was fully stretched out on the floor. “Oooh,” he groaned again and threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the sunlight peeking in through the blinds. “Why’d you let me drink so much?”

“Well. You were paying.”

“So if YOU had been paying, you would’ve stopped me?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Fuck off, Monaghan.”

“That’s nice. And here I was all prepared to make you coffee and bring you aspirin.”

“I take it back.”

“Too late.”

“Doooom.” Billy was not above begging by this point. His head hurt. His body had melted into some unrecognizable goo. And there was something terribly foul tasting lingering in his mouth. “I’d grovel. But I can’t, you know. Move.”

“Pathetic.” Dom nudged Billy’s limp body with the toe of his shoe.

“Did you sleep with your shoes on?”

“Well, you wouldn’t let go of me long enough to get them off. You’re a very clingy sleeper, Bill.”

Oh. Billy decided to shut up then and just...lie there helplessly in pain. Yeah. That sounded about right.

Dom sighed down at him. Without opening his eyes, Billy knew that Dom was shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll bring you something.”

“Thanks. I-,” Billy stopped.

“What?”

“Just...thanks.”

“No problem.”

Billy sighed as he listened to Dom’s footsteps fade away as the other man moved down the hall and the stairs. He’d been about to say, I love you for that. Playfully, teasingly, the way they’d always said it. But he couldn’t say that anymore. Because it wasn’t BillyandDom anymore, they were Billy. And Dom. Dom. And Billy. No longer that rushed, no space, no hyphen, all-one-word expression for the two of them. They were separate now. Apart. On completely different sides of the planet, even though Dom was now downstairs, puttering about Billy’s kitchen.

Billy let a soft moan of pain, gritting his teeth against it. Suddenly, everything hurt even more.

\---

Slowly, painfully, Billy dragged himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the dresser. A drawer knob poked painfully into his spine and he fidgeted, looking woefully up at Dom. “Can I have that coffee now?” he asked Dom, his voice low and weary.

“Yeah.” Dom thrust the coffee at Billy, drops of liquid flying over the edge and splattering down onto Billy’s denim-clad thigh. “Oops. Sorry.”

Dom moved as though to get a towel but Billy shook his head at him, his eyes closed. “Don’t bother.” The pain in his head made every other annoyance weak in comparison and he only traced the wet spot on his thigh with the tip of one finger before lifting the cup to his lips and sipping weakly, his eyes still closed.

Dom collapsed on the floor in front of him. Billy popped one eye open and watched as Dom pulled his legs beneath and sat up, looking at him expectantly. “What?”

“Don’t you want to know what else happened last night?” Dom gave him a scary sort of grin, one that said he had loads and loads of potential blackmail and was just *waiting* to do Billy in with it.

“Not particularly.”

“Good, I’ll tell you.” Dom rocked back on his feet with a certain sense of glee and Billy would have rolled his eyes if he hadn’t thought it’d irritate his head even more. “You sang.”

Billy groaned and took a gulp of coffee. Dom’s words stirred a vague, alcohol-clouded memory. “What did I sing?”

“Celine Dion.”

Fuck. Well, there went any masculine testosterone-filled image he’d ever had.

Dom was fairly leering at Billy by now. “And then you did an encore.”

“Why are you telling me this? It’s not helping my headache any.” Billy closed his eyes again and took another swallow of coffee. The burning sensation all down his throat didn’t help either.

“Spice Girls.”

“I DID NOT!” Billy’s eyes flew open and he stared at Dom stupidly, shocked and aching.

“You’re right, you didn’t.” Dom was speaking frankly now and his eyes held Billy’s with a clear, open gaze. He couldn’t hide the upturning of his lips though. “I’m a liar.”

“Big fat ugly one at that,” Billy muttered, slumping down against the dresser, his coffee cup balanced precariously on his knee. Dom stuck his tongue out at him. Billy contemplated reaching out and tugging the damn thing out by its root, but decided against that. Too messy. Anyway, that tongue had proved to be quite useful on occasions in the past... Billy’s ears burned at that thought and he slumped lower yet. Not only was he sentimental and a Celine Dion fan, he was a pervert as well.

Billy supposed he could sink lower, but he didn’t choose to go there.

“Do you remember what happened when we got home?” Dom was giving him a curious look now, his head tilted slightly (like a puppy, Billy found himself thinking vaguely) and his eyes soft.

“I didn’t throw up in your bed, did I? Because if that’s why you slept in mine-,”

“NO! No, that’s not what happened, it...” Dom paused, sighed. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything?”

Billy raised an eyebrow at him, took another slow sip of coffee. Dom was looking so hopefully at him, so confusedly...there were vague stirrings of a memory, but nothing monumental. Billy frowned, shook his head slightly. “Nope. Why?”

“No...no reason.” Dom’s face was white, pained for a second, but the expression cleared and he beamed at Billy. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna go make some breakfast, you want anything?”

Billy made some sort of horrible noise at Dom in response and the other man laughed before turning to leave. He was halfway out the door of the bedroom when Billy remembered - “Hey. Dom.”

“Yeah?” Dom turned slightly, throwing a backward glance over his shoulder at Billy.

“What’s with the peanut butter?”

A small grin traced its way across Dom’s face. “I hate to say it Bill, but...your cooking is fucking shit.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Get outta here,” he managed to croak indignantly at Dom and for lack of better things to do, threw his now empty coffee cup at Dom’s head with as much strength as his hung-over self could muster.

Dom dodged it, snickering, and ran down the stairs, as though he actually expected Billy to be able to jump up and run after him. Fat chance of *that*, Billy thought, a bit resentfully, and hung his head, cradling it gently in his slightly trembling hands.

The coffee cup fell to the carpeted floor, a hollow thumping sound that reverberated in Billy’s mind, and a few drops of liquid spilled and soaked into the carpet.

\---

Of course he remembered last night.

He just hadn’t chosen to tell Dom.

He was a coward plain and simple and Billy had absolutely no trouble admitting that to himself as he sunk beneath the warm still waters of the bathtub and blew bubbles mournfully upwards. He could hear the sound of water sloshing against the sides of the tub, a dull pounding in his ears. And his head still hurt like a fucking bitch.

Billy groaned beneath the water, sending out a sudden rush of bubbles before jerking himself back to the surface. Water splashed over the rim and onto the floor, soaking the bathmat and the clothes he’d kicked off and left lying on the floor. He peered curiously at them and shrugged. They’d have to get washed sooner or later. Preferably sooner. Billy wrinkled his nose, slightly disgusted. For someone whose existence had dwindled down to the pursuit of cleanliness, his clothing was *awfully* putrid.

He sighed as he cupped a handful of water and splashed it up over his face, repeating the gesture several times as though the warm trickle of water down his back would suddenly reveal answers to him. Answers that he didn’t think he really wanted to know. Answers to questions that he didn’t want to know he had. He could hear the television blaring on the first floor, in the room almost directly below him. Dom was watching TV. For a moment, Billy fancied dumping the whole tub over the edge and seeing what Dom would do when the water leaked through the floor, dripped onto his head.

Probably blink and shift over to the other cushion.

Another sigh and Billy plunged under the water again.

He opened his eyes there and then closed them immediately again, lifting his head enough that his nose skimmed the surface. A deep breath. The hollow sound of sloshing water in his ears. The vibrations of the television - how loud did Dom have that thing, anyway? Dom.

He was beginning to get rather sick of Dom.

Or actually, he was beginning to get rather sick of the way he was unable to distance himself from Dom. Of the way he’d been unable to forget Dom and the way he’d so easily allowed him back into his life.

I shouldn’t have let Dom come, Billy told himself now, submerged save for his nose in the bathwater. I should have told him to book a hotel, that I was busy, that I didn’t want to see him - I should have told him *anything* but that would be fine. Because if I had told him that..

...things would be different.

It was a stupid thing to think, Billy recognized that immediately. His logic made no sense, not even to himself. But he’d been doing *fine* (yes, FINE, he and Frodo and the cleaning) had been doing perfectly fine. And then he’d tripped up over himself and let Dom back in. And now he was back to square one.

But not really.

It was worse than before. Because before, when he and Dom were friends, it was teasing and laughter and long conversations about nothing or everything. When he and Dom were almost-more, it was half-flirtatious banter and promising smiles and even more promising eyes. And then it wasn’t almost-more but completely more and everything was perfect, kisses, laughter, sex, and they had talked, they had really talked and it hadn’t been whatever movie was on TV that night and peanut butter sandwiches and frozen dinners.

Billy wondered if one could drown one’s self in the bathtub.

It was worse than before because Billy could remember. He could remember *everything*. He could remember the way Dom’s eyes crinkled when he laughed (really truly *laughed*, not the half-smiles and short chuckles he gave Billy now) and the way he waved his hands when he spoke and the way his t-shirt bunched up over his stomach when he slept and the way his hair stood on end when he first woke up and exactly what Dom’s early-morning and good-night and every second in-between kisses had tasted like, felt like. Billy could remember it all and what was worse, he missed it.

He missed Dom’s legs tangled up with his beneath the sheets and Dom’s lips against his and Dom’s slightly embarrassed, impish grin when he’d done something stupid or absolutely mad or something that would have Billy rolling his eyes in exasperation before tugging Dom close and tucking a soft kiss behind his ear. He missed Dom’s whispers in the middle of the night and Dom’s tirades over missing socks in the laundry and coffee filters that didn’t filter and the sound of Dom’s muffled laughter against Billy’s shoulder when one of their group did something particularly stupid. He even missed the way Dom always kneed him in the stomach when he rolled over and the way Dom was chronically late or chronically early, but never on time.

Billy lifted his beginning to wrinkle hands and covered his face. He was getting old and sentimental. Stupid, really. If he was going to get sentimental about anyone, it ought to be...well, anyone but Dom. Because whatever he and Dom had had was gone. Completely and totally gone. It had been replaced by something new and uncomfortable, something rather like the Christmas when his sister had forced him to bond (so she had said, but by which she had really meant, get out of my hair for a few hours) with her new boyfriend. A nice enough guy, a guy he probably would have been able to had a beer with or something if hadn’t been every time Billy had looked at him, he’d thought: this man has had his tongue in my sister’s mouth and has probably also seen her naked.

Only Dom hadn’t been kissing Billy’s sister (Billy almost wished he’d had, it would have made things a lot less complicated). Dom had been kissing Billy and not only had he had his tongue in Billy’s mouth, he’d seen him naked and that made the boyfriend scenario pale (think albino, Billy thought and then rolled his eyes at himself) in comparison.

With a deep breath, Billy suddenly emerged from beneath the water, again splashing water over the sides of the tub and soaking bathmat and clothing further. Bath hadn’t helped his fucking head, had only made it worse what with Dom and more Dom. He wrapped a towel around his waist, made his way to the mirror and rubbed away at the steam. And didn’t he look lovely, all nice and hung-over? Billy grimaced at his reflection and turned back to the bathtub, leaning over to pull the drain.

He should probably tell Dom that he remembered what had happened last night. It was the right thing to do (and since when had Billy worried about the right thing?). Maybe it would open up a whole new pathway to discussion and they would reach whatever end they were striving for. Maybe they would work everything out. Maybe...

Yeah, and maybe there’d be a pony too.

Billy snorted, slightly disgusted with himself, and made his way into the bedroom. Dom was sitting on his bed.

Billy hadn’t even heard the TV turn off.

\---

“What do you want?” Billy threw out at Dom by way of greeting as he made his way over to the bureau, opening drawers and shutting them at random. Dom didn’t answer right away and desperately, Billy grabbed at some clothing, hoping that they gave some semblance of order.

“You don’t remember anything?” Dom spoke at last, averting his eyes (was that a good thing or a bad, Billy wondered) as Billy dressed.

“Nope.” Liar. Billy averted his eyes in turn, focusing on the buttons of his shirt as though they were the most fascinating articles he’d ever laid eyes on. And then, somehow, he was left with three extra buttons but no extra shirt with which to button them. He sighed and began unbuttoning.

“Pathetic.” Dom hopped off the bed and stood in front of Billy, tugging at the collar of his shirt until it met his satisfaction. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to button from the bottom up?” Dom’s fingers, slim and quick, moved swiftly up Billy’s shirt, buttoning as they went. “There you go!” A pat on the shoulder.

A *pat*.

Way to make a guy feel all of three years old, Dom.

“Would you quit harassing me about last night? I *told* you I don’t remember anything.” The right amount of exasperation, annoyance, good, very good. Billy turned away from Dom, toward the mirror. His eyes met Dom’s in mirror. Bad, very bad. Billy averted his eyes again, decided to concentrate on his shoes.

“Are you going somewhere?” Dom changed the subject, watching as Billy stumbled about in an attempt to get his shoe on before finally sitting down on the bed (*after* first whacking his head against the bureau, of course. Smooth, Boyd, smooth).

“Um. Wasn’t planning on it.” Then why was he putting his shoes on? All bad, all very, very bad.

“Oh. I thought maybe you were going, um, outside.”

“Why would I be going outside?”

“Er. I dunno. Thought you might like to, um,” very low, very quickly, “bury your fish?”

“What?” Billy looked at Dom, dumbly. “Bury my fish?”

“Well I don’t THINK its supposed to be floating upside down like that, but I could be wrong, I’ve never kept fish before!”

“You’ve killed my fish?!”

“NO! I just...tapped on the bowl and it kinda...flopped over!”

“YOU’VE KILLED MY FISH!”

“NO! It was already dying, I just...just...”

Billy stared. “Fish killer.”

“I’ll help you bury it,” Dom offered. His eyes were fastened to the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked like a repentant little schoolboy, Billy thought irritably. With his hand caught in the goddamn cookie jar.

“You don’t bury a fish.”

“Well, you can’t flush a fish named Frodo, Elijah wouldn’t like it.”

“ELIJAH WOULDN’T LIKE IT?!” Billy honestly could not believe the things that left Dom’s mouth sometimes. “It’s a bloody goldfish! He’d probably FRY it if he knew how to use a goddamn frying pan! Are you insane?!”

“I’m sorry! But you can’t just toss a fish that’s been named after Frodo! It’d be like...like...tossing ME down the bloody toilet!”

“You ARE insane.”

“Billy.” Dom’s lower lip was begin to jut out, his eyes were beginning to take on that pleading look. It was all a load of shit, however, because Billy knew that despite whatever methods Dom used to get his own way, he’d get it. Not because he was a success at pouting but because he was so damn annoying until he got it.

“Fine. We’ll bury the fish.”

“I’ll make him a marker. You find something to put the body in and a trowel,” Dom instructed.

Fantastic. Now Billy would have a lovely little fish grave in his backyard. Just fan-fuckin’-*tastic*.

\---

“I can’t believe you’re making me bury a goldfish.”

“I can’t believe you’re not upset over the fact your pet has died.”

“I didn’t want a goldfish. I wanted a dog.”

“Then why did you go out and buy yourself a goldfish?”

“Cheaper.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a fish killer.”

Silence from Dom. Billy gave him an askance look from where he was kneeling beside him. He was cradling a matchbox in his hands, inside of which, resting on a bed of cotton balls, was Frodo’s limp body. Next to him, Dom was digging away doggedly at a cold clump of dirt.

“How deep are you going to make that?” Billy eyed the hole Dom was digging warily. “Don’t dig up my whole yard.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m digging it deep enough.” Dom frowned up at him before sitting back on his heels and scratching at his cheek thoughtfully. A streak of dirt appeared where his fingers had been and he surveyed the results of his digging meditatively. Finally it was pronounced perfect and Billy was instructed to lower the makeshift casket into the grave.

There was a long moment of silence as they looked at the matchbox, resting uncomfortably in the earth, the garish blues and reds glaring up at them both. “I feel like we should say a few words,” Billy murmured, finally.

“It was your fish. You say something.”

“Um. Like what?”

“Like how he always ate all his fish food like a good little boy and how he was named for a...a...Elijah and how he will always live on in our hearts.”

“You’ve just gone and said all the good bits.”

“Oops.”

“Fish killer.”

“Would you stop it?! Here.” Dom hand Billy the trowel. “Just shovel the dirt back over it and pat it down smooth. We’ll have an, um...a memorial service later. It looks like its about to rain.” Billy stifled a smile at Dom’s mention of a memorial service. Only Dom would think to memorialize a goldfish. Quickly, gracelessly, he dumped a load of dirt over the matchbox, slapped at it with the back of the trowel, covering the last traces of red just as the first raindrops began to fall.

“Come on. We’re gonna get soaked.” Dom tugged at Billy’s arms, jerking him up into a standing position. Billy was still for a moment, looking down at the tiny grave he’d just help create, the little marker made out of the cardboard of a cereal box wobbling pitifully at its head. Dom’s face fell. “Shit. You’re not gonna start cry now, are you?”

“No. Its only a fish.’” Billy sighed as the rain began falling faster, plastering his clothing to his body and turning the ground to mud at his feet. He took a step forward, splattering mud over his pant legs. He was going to need another bath if he kept this up. “I liked him though.” It wasn’t a terribly articulate thing to say. It wasn’t even close to sentimental. But it was enough that Dom felt guilty again and slipped up close to him, resting his hand on his shoulder and garbling out some sort of apology.

But Billy didn’t think he was talking so much about the fish anymore.

And he didn’t think Dom was either as clumsily, they moved toward each other, into each other’s space, and in the same fumbling motion, found each other’s lips; found them the same as remembered, and tasting slightly of rain.

-TBC-


	5. Chapter 5

Billy was acting as though he’d never been kissed before. And maybe he hadn’t. Because he had never felt the way Dom’s kiss made him feel.

He was cold and hot all at once, his fingers aching from the strength with which they dug into Dom’s shoulders, but he was light-headed, horribly so. He couldn’t think quite straight, the only thought in his mind was Dom’s name, echoing and whispering, and Billy was surprised to hear himself whimper when Dom started to draw away. Instinctively, he pulled Dom back again, pressing his body flat against his, his mouth pressing against Dom’s again, hard enough to feel the firm row of teeth behind Dom’s lips. Dom’s lips opened, a gasp escaped against Billy’s lips, and there it was, that rhythm, mouths opening-closing, lips sliding, slick with saliva, rain, back-and-forth, warm mouths, cool rain, opening-closing, _oh god, Dom, yes..._

The ground was wet and soft beneath Billy’s knees as he fell, stumblingly, clutching at Dom’s shirt with his hands, Dom’s lips with his own. His jeans were soaked through, a part of Billy realized vaguely, as his hands slipped over the rain-drenched folds of Dom’s shirt to clasp around his neck, drawing him closer. Another gasp - he didn’t know who from, it all blended together so well in his mind - and then, Dom’s lips on his again, and Billy was fairly sure he’d never been kissed before in his life and that he’d forgotten how to breathe, if he’d ever known how to begin with.

It was a sudden clap of thunder that had them breaking apart, gasping, eyes wide. Dom’s hair was rumpled, he gave Billy a confused and then, accusing, look as though Billy had conjured up the thunder. Billy tried to smile but only a shadow of it appeared before a flash of lightning lit up the gray sky. “Maybe...maybe we should go in,” Billy whispered. His voice was rough, gravelly.

Maybe he hadn’t ever been kissed before.

Dom’s lips upturned into an easy smile briefly as he got to his feet, tugged at Billy’s hand until Billy slowly clambered up onto his own feet. Another strike of lightning flashed across the sky, sending the two men from their almost-dazed, silent stance on the back lawn scrambling for cover. “I’ll find us some towels,” Billy said as they made it onto the porch and stood, dripping, awkwardly for a moment, watching the rain and each other.

Dom nodded and slowly, wryly, wrung out his shirt. A smile began to play at his lips again and he glanced up at Billy, at the rain, and then down at his hand wringing at his shirt again, the smile still twitching at his lips. Billy followed his eyes...himself...the rain...Dom’s hands. Dom’s eyes flitted to rain and then back to Billy again and this time, they locked with Billy’s. Dom gave him a guilty smile before tearing his eyes away and suddenly, blushing, Billy knew what Dom was thinking of.

\---

_“Billy, Billy, Billy, BILLY!” Dom charges through the house, up the stairs, into the bedroom, a blur of color and sound. He pauses in the doorway to the bedroom, spies Billy sitting on the bed and without missing a beat, shrieks Billy’s name once more before launching himself at the bed._

_Billy groans as Dom comes crashing down on the bed, half on him, half beside him. An elbow jabs into Billy’s stomach, a knee into his thigh and Dom’s hands grab wildly at any part of Billy to keep himself from rolling off the bed entirely. “Damn it, Dom,” Billy complains, trying to slither out from Dom, his expression annoyed and eyes exasperated as Dom rolls over, still flopped across Billy’s legs, onto his back and stares up at Billy, guileless and innocent. He smiles. Billy sighs and sets his book down from where’s he’s been holding it above his head, out of the way, on the table Dominic’s stomach makes for him._

_Dom’s hand snakes up under Billy’s arm, turns down the corner of the page and shuts the cover and tosses it to the floor before Billy can even issue the complaint forming in his mouth. “Hey,” Billy grumbles anyway, not really caring about the book as Dom slowly sits up in his lap. “That ruins the pages of the book,” he continues in a drifting tone as Dom leans forward purposefully._

_“I’ll buy you a hundred books with unruined pages if you kiss me now,” Dom promises, his eyes half-closing, a smile pulling at his lips._

_Billy drops a brisk, dry peck on his cheek. “Will that do?”_

_“For a hundred books? Not at all.” Dom shifts his weight, reaches out for Billy. Billy moves willingly into his embrace and his kiss, Dom’s lips warm and familiar on his own._

_“Will that do?” Billy repeats, his voice soft and low._

_Dom considers. “No,” he says, and starts to lean for another kiss, when his eyes alight on the window and suddenly, he jerks away from Billy. “BILLY!”_

_“I thought we were done with the shouting of my name,” Billy says, leaning away from Dom, wincing._

_“It’s raining.” Dom points to the window. Billy looks. Indeed, it is raining, a solid heavy rain that darkens the sky and splashes against the windowpane in great, fat drops._

_“I see,” Billy says, slightly confused by Dom’s apparent excitement._

_“I’ve never been kissed in the rain!” Dom’s eyes glimmer with excitement and he tugs at Billy’s shirtsleeve impatiently._

_Billy sighs. “And I suppose I’m the person to do the job?”_

_Nod nod._

_A smile. A glimmer of mischief in green eyes. “Then we’d best get outside then before it stops.”_

_A quick twist of Dom’s lips, then a solemn look. “Yes. We’d best hurry.” And Billy grabs Dom’s hand and pulls him off the bed._

_\---_

_Billy is growing slightly apprehensive about his former impulse as he watches the rain pour down from the shelter of the back door. Dom is already outside, drenched and loving it, his head tilted back, his eyes shut as rain splashes over his face. “Billy?”_

_“I’m coming.” Determinedly, Billy edges the door open, places one hesitant foot on the lawn. It’s cold and wet and squishy and if Dom wasn’t waiting for him, he would have turned right back around and gone straight back to his bedroom and his book._

_But Dom *is* waiting for him._

_Billy sighs and takes another step. He is immediately soaked and immediately attacked by Dom._

_Dom’s lips are a warm, sharp contrast to the cold rain beating down on him, hard and firm against Billy’s. His lips move in slow, sliding movements across Billy’s lips, slowly guiding Billy’s mouth into a slow rhythm of movement, of mouths opening and tongues probing and whispered gasps._

_Its funny how often Billy forgets how he loves kissing Dom. He knows he loves it, of course, he only thinks about it every other second or so. But unless he is actually kissing Dom, can actually feel his lips, hear his gasps, he doesn’t remember quite how much he adores it._

_Billy thinks he could stay here, in the rain, cold and wet and shivering, and kiss Dom forever._

_Abruptly, almost rudely, Dom breaks off the kiss, jerks his mouth from Billy’s and takes a step or two back. Billy breathes in deeply, locks his eyes on Dom’s. “Worth a hundred books?” he asks._

_Dom’s lips pull into a crooked smile. “Almost,” he says, and closes the distance between them once again._

_“It’s raining,” Billy reminds him as a particularly large drop splashes into his eyes, temporarily blinds him._

_“Yeah. I know.” Dom’s lips press lightly against the corner of Billy’s mouth, work their way down his throat and his hands are playing with the buttons of the shirt rain has plastered to Billy’s body._

_“Dom...” there is a warning tone to Billy’s voice as Dom casually pops open the first button._

_“Billy...” Dom mimics his tone, his accent, and pops open the second button._

_“It’s *raining*.”_

_“Yes. It is.” The weather is of supreme indifference to Dom as he makes quick work of the rest of Billy’s shirt. Billy shivers as a cool breeze hits his bare skin, rain light and cold running in trickles down his chest, soaking in the waistband of his jeans. Dom’s fingers are light, slightly rough to the touch as they follow paths of the raindrops over Billy’s skin._

_Billy’s not shivering because of cold anymore._

_Dom’s fingers continue their inquisitive movements, light caresses and careful scrapes of the nails over Billy’s skin. Dom’s lips are still pressing kisses to Billy’s mouth and throat. “Dom?”_

_“Yes?” Short blunt fingernails scrape over a nipple._

_A hiss. “This is crazy.”_

_“I know.” Mouth follows the paths of raindrops and fingers. Dom’s mouth is hot, warming Billy’s chilled flesh, touches his over-sensitized skin, envelopes a nipple and mimics the scraping motion of his fingernails with his teeth._

_Billy’s hands reach down and tug at Dom’s t-shirt, stuck fast to his body by rain, struggle until its over his head, off his body. “It’s raining, Billy,” Dom says, his tone full of mock-reproach as Billy’s fingers skim over his skin._

_“I like rain,” Billy says, growls really, and Dom laughs. Billy gives him the fiercest look he can muster which isn’t really very fierce and only makes Dom laugh harder. And then, suddenly, they’re both laughing because it’s raining and it’s cold and they’re both half-naked and Dom is kissing Billy again, warming him through and through and then; and then, they’re stumbling, falling onto the cold, muddy ground and Billy says something about fuckin’ animals and Dom corrects him, fucking *like* animals and for some reason, that’s hysterically funny to them both as buttons are undone, zippers tugged and clothes are lost in the whirling mass of rain, heat, and of Dom’s lips guiding Billy to places he’s never considered venturing to before._

_For the first time Billy is really aware of and extraordinarily grateful for the fences and shrubbery that surround his neighbors’ back lawns. That is the very last thing either of them need, Billy knows, lying on the ground beneath Dom, trying to keep himself from screaming at Dom to just go ahead and fuck him properly (and at the same time, trying to keep his mind off the fact that there’s mud and grass all over himself and in places Billy never dreamed mud and grass would go). Eyewitness reports of - yes, I did indeed, I saw Billy Boyd and Dom Monaghan fucking in the grass in the midst of a rainstorm, s’true that the hobbits are one with nature if you know what I mean, ha bloody ha, - and thus cueing a mass outbreak of tabloids, press conferences, and whatever else one does when confronted with public sex scandals. Blame it on a crap childhood and loads of alcohol, Billy supposes._

_And bloody fucking hell, Dom’s mouth is all around his fucking cock and so goddamn hot and wet and Billy’s body is on fucking *fire* as he thrusts up against Dom’s mouth, begging, silently for release. Dom’s mouth moves, fast and slick, taking him in and in and in and Billy is truly afraid he will shatter into a hundred million pieces if Dom doesn’t take him to the very edge, very soon._

_The feel of the rain against his hot skin makes Billy gasp loudly and wrench himself into a sitting position. The absence Dom’s lips on him his is intensely noticeable and Billy nearly cries with frustration to see Dom kneeling before him, his eyes calm and his face serene and if it wasn’t for the fact that he can feel Dom’s erection against his thigh, he’d suspect Dom wasn’t even minutely aroused._

_Dom leans forward, kisses Billy, silencing any potential sounds of argument or frustration, until Billy is pacified enough to lay back, to allow Dom’s fingers to stroke gently over the curve of his ass - “you fuckin’ minger, I haven’t got any lube,” Billy says shortly, jerking away from Dom. Experience has taught them that this is a step best not skipped and Billy glares accusingly at Dom._

_Dom gives him a cheeky grin. Pulls away from Billy, locates his discarded jeans and searches the numerous pockets before - “Aha.”_

_“Incredible,” Billy murmurs, incredulous at Dom’s eternal optimism that he will always be able to find a place and time to fuck Billy. Short gasps, moans, escape him, the same emotion mirrored in Dom’s face as he slowly moves his fingers, first one, and then two, and then three, familiar fingers that search and probe until they brush against something makes Billy shudder and whisper Dom’s name._

_It’s still raining._

_Billy’s eyes close and he whispers Dom’s name again as he rearranges his limbs around Dom as Dom’s fingers leave him. He’s shaking slightly under, partially from the chill that follows the heat racing up and down his body, partially from the feeling of Dom’s slow, slow, penetration._

_A gasp from Dom, a stifled groan from Billy._

_And then, the sound of skin on skin, the sound of the wind rushing past Billy’s ears and the sound of raindrops soaking into the ground, splashing off their bodies. The feel of Dom’s breath, warm and soft on his face, Dom’s back slick with sweat and rain beneath his fingertips, the feel of Dom’s thrust, the feeling of Dom filling him completely, of owning him entirely. Gasps and moans and whispers, the wind rustling, the rain dropping, skin on skin, Billy is dying, dying, please, please, please..._

_“Open your eyes, Billy.” Dom nearly barks the command out at him and Billy’s eyes fly open, his nails digging into Dom’s back and his hips thrusting up against Dom’s, begging him for harder, faster, more, now, please._

_Billy’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t breathe, he may never be able to breathe again. Dom is lovely then, far lovelier than Billy has ever seen him before, his eyes the same dark gray color of the sky above him, his hair, almost brown in its wet state, plastered to his forehead, his body moving rhythmically against Billy’s, Billy loves his body, and he stares into Billy’s eyes, whispers, “Want to see you come.”_

_Billy’s eyes shut again- “Open your eyes, Billy, I want you to see me, I want to see you.” An aggressive thrust, one hand that lifts from the ground and traces its way down Billy’s chest and stomach, leaves a trail of dirt and grass, grasps Billy’s arousal firmly and *strokes*._

_And Billy is completely lost as he shudders, not from cold, not from rain, not from emotion, not from anything but sheer climax, and clenches himself around Dom and says Dom’s name hoarsely. And his eyes never leave Dom’s as Dom follows the fall of his climax with a groan, several expletives and a warm rushing heat throughout Billy and then with a hushed moan, collapses against Billy, his weight warm and familiar and whispers, “A thousand books at least.”_  
  
\---

Billy sighed to see Dominic kneeling before the fireplace, still wearing his wet clothing, bare footed and perplexed. “Why the hell doesn’t your fire light?”

“Because it’s bloody electric. Here.” Billy tossed him a towel. He knew Dom wouldn’t have bothered to change into dry clothes, “Dry your head at least, you’re going to catch pneumonia and it’ll be my fault and then you’ll be deathly ill and cost me a fortune in hospital bills trying to make it up to you.”

“Been taking lessons from Sean, have you?” Dom asked wryly in response to the concern in Billy’s voice, catching the towel and patting absently at his head before draping it around his neck. “Why the hell have you got an electric fire?”

“Dunno. S’how the place was built.”

“Stupid. What a crap idea, building an electric fireplace.”

“I’ll be sure to call the builders and tell them that. They’ll be scarred for life.”

“As they right well should be.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to light it?”

“No. I want something to eat. What have you got in this crappily built house to eat?” Dom looked at Billy expectantly.

Billy snorted at *that*. “If you think I’m going to cook for you after that comment about me being crap at cooking, you are sorely mistaken.”

“It’s not so much you’re a crap cook, it’s just that you...skip steps. And put some together.” Dom tried amend but after much banter and some flat out arguing, it was decided (or rather, ordered by a slightly cranky Billy) that if they both went to the grocery, they could find something with few enough steps that Billy wouldn’t be struck with the urge to toss everything together in a dish and microwave it for a couple minutes and enough complications that Dom would feel as though he was getting a real dinner (such as peanut butter sandwiches, for example, Billy mused and was told to kiss Dom’s little white British ass for his pains).

The grocery store was a simple enough - Dom said get this and Billy got that. It was cooking the meal that proved the problem.

“You can set the table.”

“I don’t get to cook anything?!”

“Erm. You can make a salad.”

“I can handle more than a salad, Dom.”

“I’ve seen you cook.” Dom put on a horrible Scottish accent in what Billy assumed to be an exaggeration of his own. “Brown the meat and sauté the vegetables? That’s too much bloody work, I’ll just toss them together in the same pan and turn the heat up to high, it’s much faster, who gives a flying shit if they burn to a crisp in the process? An hour to bake a potato? Fuck no, I’ll pop ‘em in the microwave for TEN MINUTES without POKING HOLES IN THEM and it’ll be good.”

Billy found that he couldn’t really argue with such sound logic and settled for muttering, “I’ve never said ‘who gives a flying shit’ in my LIFE,” and washing some lettuce to make, “the best damn salad you’ve ever had, Monaghan.”

Billy hadn’t known what a kiss could do to a relationship, not really, before now. Somehow, the awkwardness had dissolved into nothingness and he was able to talk with Dom, not quite as before, but with relative ease, able to laugh with him and at him and be shown the same courtesy in return. He didn’t *have* to worry about getting too close, about being in Dom’s space, he could rest his hand on Dom’s knee when he was talking intently about something and not come to the sudden realization _this isn’t right_ and snatching it away, he could lean across Dom to reach for something and get told to move his ass, pretty as it was, away from Dom’s face and be smacked on the offending feature for added emphasis. Billy hadn’t known how important physical contact was in a relationship before either.

It seemed that whatever reservations Dom had had were swept away as well. He talked constantly, a steady stream of chatter, sometime relevant, sometimes completely random, but never the nervous stilted conversation he’d offered Billy before. He smacked a kiss on Billy’s cheek and assured it was indeed, the best damn salad he’d ever had. And as the night progressed, they by turn, became more serious and Billy learned more about Dom in that one night than he had in the past year and Billy knew that he was spilling secrets to Dom that he hadn’t dreamed would ever cross his lips before.

They talk about everything except the things Billy wanted most to talk about. _Why did you leave before? Why didn’t we speak for so long? Are you leaving again? Why did you kiss me out there? Why are you here now?_ But that was all right for now, it was all right for that night. And in that dark secret part of him that he tried not to connect to too often, Billy knew that he didn’t really want to find out the answers no matter how desperately he wanted to speak of them. He was afraid he might hear the wrong answer, might give the wrong one.

He couldn’t have stood knowing those things, not that night, not when everything had suddenly, finally, fallen into place.

It was nearly one in the morning when Billy realized they would have to go to bed eventually. And what was he supposed to do when that came? Billy wasn’t planning on fucking Dom (or making love to him or sleeping with him or getting laid or whatever the hell it was that they had done in the past) that night, but things didn’t always go as planned. And Billy knew, *knew* as surely as though it had already happened, that if he kissed Dom good night, it wouldn’t stop there. And Billy didn’t want it to go beyond that, not yet. Not until he knew that Dom wasn’t going to leave him again, that he wasn’t going to draw away from Dom again. He was past all the games and casualness, he didn’t need to run about in circles with Dom, always wondering, but never knowing because whenever he got close, it ended in a fuck.

He’d already been there with Dom. He didn’t need to go back.

It was somewhere in the midst of all these musings that Billy found the solution to his problem.

He fell asleep on the sofa.

Billy wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep before Dom left him. It was Dom’s leaving that woke him slightly, woke him enough to vaguely realize that Dom was covering him with a blanket and sighing softly. There was a brush across his forehead that may have been Dom’s lips or maybe it was only his hand brushing away a stray hair before the light clicked off, leaving Billy in darkness.

He sighed and rolled over, instinctively scrunching beneath the blanket. Before he fell asleep again, a thought strayed across his mind, a memory really, of Dom’s earlier action of buttoning his shirt for him. What was Dom looking for? He kissed Billy like a lover and then he tucked him in like a child.

It was a disgruntling thought, one that jolted him into wakefulness and kept him there for the rest of the night.

-TBC-


	6. Chapter 6

 

It was Elijah that straightened Billy out as usual.

That was something about Elijah, his ability to set Billy straight, that really pissed Billy off. And yet, he was unerringly grateful for it. Sort of.

“Bill. Hey.” Puff puff, wheeze wheeze. The kid was his own walking cancer site.

“What do you want, Elijah?” Billy’s voice was tired and he slumped down against the wall of the kitchen until he hit the floor. He sighed and tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. Elijah wasn’t answering him. “Well?”

“That’s gratitude for you. Not only do I whip his sorry ass into shape so that he’s not flopping all about the world feeling sorry for himself and cleaning like mad-,” Billy made a small noise but Elijah barreled on. “Shut up Bill, I know you go crazy and clean like a grandma when you’re stressed. And I saved you from that, I saved you, didn’t I?! I sent Dom over to see you, I nearly had to put a fucking gun to his head to get him on the fucking train, but dammit, I got him on it and now he’s with you! And you have the...the...the *nerve* to talk to me like that. I don’t know if I feel like talking to you anymore, Bill.” Elijah gave a haughty, offended sniff and Billy smiled to himself as he envisioned Elijah’s face, the self-righteous drag of the cigarette as he stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankle, completely confident in his own self, his own worth, confident in things that Billy had never even have the nerve to think about.

Elijah gave a small cough.

Billy was supposed to apologize. Right. Billy rolled his eyes, bit back his smile and said in his best penitent voice, “Sorry Lij. Hi. How are you?” Pause. “Thanks for. um. Whipping my arse into shape,” he added for good measure, his voice still penitent.

“Fucker. You wouldn’t give a shit if I fell off the face of the earth.” But there was a smile in Elijah’s voice and Billy grinned as he heard a cigarette being stubbed out. “So?”

“So what?” Billy frowned as he heard a click on the other line. Was someone listening in?

“Soooo...did Dom actually make it there?”

“Bitch. Of course I did.” Yeah. Someone was listening in. “What’s he been telling you about me, Billy?”

“Talk about bitches, get off the phone Sblomie. I’m talking to Billy.”

“ABOUT ME!”

“You wish. We’re talking about...another Dom.”

Billy chuckled despite himself. “That’s right, Dom. We’re not talking about you, we’re talking about another Dom that just happened to be visiting me.”

“...I hate you both.” Dom gave a despairing sob and with a loud click, hung up (slammed down, more likely) the phone.

There was a long pause. Finally, “Is he gone?” Elijah whispered.

“I don’t know,” Billy whispered back, feeling ridiculous, about ten years old, and loving it. “I’ll go check.” Quietly, he set the phone down on the floor and stood up, dusting himself off, before walking (all right, *tip-toeing*) to the foot of the stairs. He could hear water running, Dom was taking a shower or something. That meant he was off the phone.

“Yeah. He’s off.” Billy whispered into the phone as he sat down, cross-legged on his kitchen floor. “And has obviously made it here.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Elijah groaned into the phone and said, forgoing whispering, “Are you guys still being complete dickheads and just *wandering* around each other?”

“Being a complete dickhead, I don’t think I understand this ‘wandering around each other’ concept.”

Another groan. “Jesus Christ, have you talked yet? Do you know why he left? Do you know anything at all?”

Billy was quiet, tugging at the cord of the phone as he tried to think of something to say that would make him, make the situation seem all right. Anything better than his lame ‘no’. But in the end, that was all he could give to Elijah. “No. I don’t know anything at all.”

“You ARE a complete dickhead! You’re more than that, you’re beyond it, you’re like the queen mother supreme of all dickheaddom, you’re-,”

“Ah, hang on a sec Lij.” Billy frowned and crawled over to the doorway, the phone cradled on his shoulder as he peered out just in time to see Dom’s back as he left, a red plastic sand bucket clutched in his hand. Odd. Billy didn’t *have* any sand toys. Had he brought it from home? “Dom’s just gone out the door with a sand bucket. What do you think of that?”

“I think you’re both crazy. WHY you don’t just suck it up and tell him that you love him is beyond me. WHY don’t you just suck it up and tell him that you love him, Billy? I’d really like to know, I’ve only spent the past two years of my life trying to make you guys happy together.”

“Well that’s two years of wasted time. Because if Dom wanted to *be* with me, he wouldn’t have left, would he?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to leave. What happened, Billy? Why’d he leave, what’d you do?”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! HE JUST LEFT, ALL RIGHT?”

Elijah was quiet. “So maybe that’s why he left. Because you didn’t do anything.”

“Fuck off, Wood.”

“No, YOU fuck off. You’ve been screwing around for the past couple years, bitching about Dom and yourself and everything in between, but you haven’t done a thing about it. You say that you don’t want him to go, but you won’t say a word, you won’t lift a finger, to make him stay. You hide at home in your precious Scotland and cry because nobody comes to visit you when you’re too goddamn scared to visit us because maybe we’ll say something that you won’t want to hear. Maybe we’ll tell you that Dom’s got a girlfriend, maybe we’ll tell you that Dom never wants to see you again, and that’d kill you, wouldn’t it Billy? Face it, your whole life revolves around Dom and the fact that you’re terrified of being in love with him.”

“SHUT UP!”

“I WON’T! Somebody has to say these things to you because you’re obviously never going to realize them yourself. You’re in love with Dom and have been for a long time but you won’t tell him. You probably don’t even know it yourself, do you?”

“I don’t love him. Not like you think that I do.” Billy was breathing hard and fast, as though he’d run a marathon. As though he’d run ten marathons.

“Right Billy, keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll come true one day, one day you won’t love him anymore because he’s dead and you’re dead and you’ve both just wasted your lives, trying not to be in love.”

“I’m going to hang up now,” Billy told him in a shaky voice.

“I am too. Because talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.”

“And listening to you talk is like hearing a swarm of fucking bees buzz in my ears,” Billy snapped at him and for a moment, the angry silence between them buzzed as though it did contain a swarm of bees.

“I love you, Billy,” Elijah said suddenly, roughly. Maybe he said it to show Billy how easily the words could be said or maybe he just didn’t want to have an argument hovering over their heads. Whatever the reason, it melted Billy’s anger, drained him of all his energy and he slumped against the wall again and sighed into the phone.

“Love you too,” he whispered. And it was so simple to say.

“I’m hanging up now,” Elijah said in a soft voice.

“Me too.” And they hung up together, Elijah smoking cigarette after cigarette in his mother’s kitchen in LA and Billy lying on the floor of his kitchen in Scotland, trying not to breathe too loudly.

It was the sound of the door opening and closing that jarred Billy out of his reverie. Slowly, rubbing at his eyes, Billy staggered to his feet and made his way to the doorway, glancing out, down the hall. Dom was stood on the rug in front of the door, a crooked, embarrassed grin on his face, the red sand bucket still in his hand, his shoe and socks in the other, and his jeans rolled up to his knees. “What were you doing?” Billy asked, rubbing at his temples and fighting back a soft smile.

“Fishing.”

“What?”

“I saw this lake when I went for a run the other morning-,”

“I didn’t know you ran.”

“Now you do. Anyway, I saw this lake...tiny thing, more like a pond, in some neighborhood and there were kids playing in it. So I, uh, borrowed their bucket-,”

“You stole a bucket from some kids?” Billy raised an eyebrow. “That is just about the stupidest, meanest thing you’ve done.”

“Shut up, Bill, or else you won’t get your present.”

“Present?” Intrigued, Billy took a step forward. “In that bucket?”

“Ah, so now it’s not such a bad bucket after all, now is it?” Dom beamed, dropping his shoes and socks and holding the bucket’s handle with both hands, water splashing over the sides as he took a step toward Billy.

“Just tell me what’s in it,” Billy said at the same time as Dom thrust the bucket beneath his nose and ordered him to “LOOK!”

Little, impossibly tiny, black fish were darting around in the water. “Shit Dom, what are they?” Billy whispered, peering down at the fish.

“I dunno. Some kind of fish. Maybe tadpoles? Not really sure. Black swimmy things, maybe?”

“Dom...”

“For Frodo,” Dom added abruptly. “Because I killed him.”

“*Dom*...”

“Billy?” Dom raised his eyes from the fish (or tadpoles or possibly just black swimmy things) to meet Billy’s. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Billy smiled at Dom, and somehow, the bucket was set down on the floor and Dom’s lip were on his and it was slow and gentle and perfect as they kissed, lips drifting apart and meeting again in a leisurely rhythm and Billy remained convinced that he didn’t love Dom, not like Elijah thought he did.

\---

It was an odd existence for the next few days, filled with half-promises, almosts, maybes, and slow kisses. Unhurried, long kisses that made time slow and the world around them reduce itself until it was as though they were hovering, somewhere unaware, in a dream. Kisses that were given at all the wrong, and yet at exactly the right, times. Kisses that ended sometimes abruptly, sometimes slowly, but never well. Never with happy sighs or soft smiles of old.

Never with sex, Billy was happy (or more likely, resignedly) to report.

They talked a lot more than they had before.

They made better food than they had before.

And they were more affectionate than they were before.

But it always just - stopped. Ended. Always short of a _Do you remember...?_ or a _Why did you...?_ or even a simple smile that would have reassured Billy that this was *okay*. That Dom was here for more than to just fuck with Billy’s mind some more. For more than to derive sick pleasure from Billy’s constant state of mental torment.

There weren’t any answers there for Billy. And he didn’t really want them, not anymore. Not after Elijah. Not after what he’d said, what Billy had said back. Because if Dom had given Billy answered, had given him even a *hint* as to what those answers might be, it all led back to: _you’re in love with Dom and have been for a long time._

Billy didn’t want to be in love with Dom.

He didn’t want that to be how it ended after all this.

He wanted it to end like it did in his dreams, in a sort of suspended time where there was no past and no future, where there was always just right now. _He wanted it to end like his dreams._

His dreams always ended with...well, a lot of the time they ended with sex, to be blunt. But sometimes they ended with hand-holding and skipping through fields of flowers and the whole bloody package.

Billy knew that he honestly didn’t want to have sex with Dom. Well he *wanted* to. But he knew better than to act. Because he’d acted on his (stupid, stupid, immature, juvenile, impulsive, stupid) desires before and look where it had gotten him.

Completely, irrevocably, and utterly fucked up.

He wasn’t waiting for a wedding ring. At least he didn’t think he was (God, please don’t let that be what he was looking for in the end, a fucking *wedding ring*). However his mind was occasionally filled with the most terribly amusing and terribly horrifying images of his life (other than that one time when he’d counted back the months and figured when he’d been conceived and what his parents had done that day to conceive. That had been pretty bad).

The horrible thing was, every time he thought about sex, he began panicking that he was actually waiting for a ring and then he began panicking that he was panicking about THAT because premarital sex was a sin, right? But he didn’t really practice a religion, so was it still a sin? And why did he care, he was still a man, albeit a bisexual, but that meant ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING because men were men and men wanted sex and it was about then that Billy had visions of himself in white, his hand resting lightly on Elijah’s arm as Elijah led him proudly (saying, “I told you so, I told you so”) down the aisle toward Dom-

It was then that the conception count memory resurfaced.

And that was pretty much it for sex in Billy’s book.

And why did he have to wear the dress anyway and why the fuck did Elijah get to give him away?

It was all very bewildering.

\---

It was late one night when slowly, the door to Billy’s bedroom eased open and a sliver for light fell through the crack and across his floor, his bed, enough to wake him. “Dom?” Billy whispered his name, struggling into a sitting position. He could see one gray eye at the crack between the door and wall, peering in at him. “Dom,” he said again, this time exasperated.

There was a long quiet moment between them, then. Billy could hear Dom’s raspy, nervous breathing behind the door and as for himself, he was sure Dom could hear the furious pounding of his heart. He could hear the sound of Dom’s lips and teeth around his knuckle, gnawing furiously out of nerves or fear or anger? - Billy never knew what it was.

Because suddenly, the door was flung open and Dom was running into the room and around to the edge of the bed, lifting the bedcovers and tucking them back around himself as he slid into the bed. And before Billy could even say a word, could even register what was happening, could even breathe, Dom was kissing him.

Kissing him hard and brutally, hard enough that their teeth clashed together and Billy felt the sting and slow trickle of blood ebb up from a corner of his mouth. Dom’s tongue was there, licking it away and there was something, something oddly *sensual* about the idea of his blood in Dom’s mouth, and Billy latched onto the kiss, drawing all that he could from it.

And in the darkness of the night, as they kissed, harder and longer than ever before, Dom’s hands somehow made their way to the waistband of Billy’s pajama bottoms and his fingers curled in around it as he kissed Billy; his fingers curled around the waistband and his knuckles bruised little points in the skin behind it before lowering them over the narrow span of Billy’s hips as the night slowly faded away.

\---

The next time Billy awoke, it was because Dom was leaving the bed. He watched, eyes half-shut with drowsy interest as Dom pulled on the boxers and t-shirt he’d so quickly shed the night before, watched as he gazed at Billy in the bed and tugged at his hair, rumpling it even more so, and watched...

...watched as Dom walked through the door and out of the room.

It shouldn’t bother him, Billy told himself as he rolled back over, closing his eyes and willing sleep to return. It shouldn’t bother him at all that Dom had crept out of the bed in the wee hours of the day. It shouldn’t bother him at all that Dom hadn’t wanted to wake with him as he had in earlier, better times. It really shouldn’t bother him at all.

But it did.

Billy sighed and rolled over again to the other side of the bed. It was still warm from Dom, he could still smell the slightly salty scent of Dom. Dom smelled like the ocean, Billy realized vaguely as he stole Dom’s pillow for his own and tucked it behind his head, his eyes still closed as he breathed in deeply.

Dom smelled like the ocean.

And Dom had wanted to leave him as though last night had never happened. Dom wanted to pretend that as long as it happened in the dark, under the covers, it didn’t really matter. Fine then. Billy could play at that game too. Billy could pretend just as well as Dom that it didn’t really matter, that it hadn’t happened, that it didn’t mean a thing.

A deep raw aching sprang up from somewhere deep inside of Billy at the thought. He shouldn’t have let Dom stay in his bed last night. He should have kneed the bastard in the groin, sent him tumbling backwards at the bed as soon as he’d realized what Dom had wanted (no matter how much he’d wanted it back) because it wasn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth the slow sinking of his stomach when he realized Dom was walking out the door. It wasn’t worth the slow shredding of his heart when he realized Dom wanted to pretend nothing had changed. It wasn’t worth any of it.

He was going to tell Dom that too, Billy decided, nodding his head against the pillow. He was going to tell Dom nothing was worth all the shit he was going through, that nothing was worth wasting another year of his life, nothing was worth-

Dom walked through the door then and all of Billy’s firm resolutions just died and went away at the very sound of his footsteps.

“Billy?” Dom whispered, hesitantly, tentatively. “You awake?”

“Mmph.” Billy grunted and rolled back over.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Nngh.” Billy burrowed further beneath the covers.

“I’ve got food.”

Well that was an entirely different story. Billy opened his eyes and sat up to see Dom looking very contrite with a tray of toast and mugs with steam rising tantalizing from them. A very different story *indeed*. “What’s that,” Billy asked suspiciously, even as he made room again for Dom on the bed.

“Breakfast.”

“Right.” Billy accepted the piece of toast Dom was poking at him and spread it liberally with butter and jam Dom had provided. “What for? You trying to break up with me nicely?” He said it lightly enough, but as he lapped at the smear of jam he’d gotten on the side of his thumb, he gazed up at Dom with solemn eyes.

“No. Just wanted to do something nice for you. Take it as a thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’ll take more than a couple of slices of toast and-,” Billy peered into the mugs still sitting on Dom’s tray, “And a mug of hot chocolate to thank me for the torment of having *you* for a guest.”

“Shut up. You love having me as a guest, it’s the most fun you’ve had all year. Now be quiet and eat your breakfast like a good boy.”

Billy did so, watching with thoughtful, amused eyes as Dom crunched away on his own toast and sipped delicately at the hot chocolate. “I thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

“I don’t.”

“Which is exactly why you’ve been drinking chocolate milk and hot chocolate the entire time you’ve been here.” To Billy’s surprise, he saw a blush start at Dom’s cheeks and spread down his neck and the piece of toast he’d been eating fall back to the plate. “What’s this? Dommie is *blushing*?”

“I am not.” But it was muttered and Dom was avoiding Billy’s eyes.

“You are! Tell, tell. Why’re you drinking all this chocolate if you don’t really like the stuff?” Billy’s eyes lit up and he settled back against the headboard with his own cup, looking quite pleased at his ability to make Dom blush.

“It’s ridiculous, really.”

Billy considered the situation they were in right now. He was still naked, although safely concealed under the bedcovers, Dom was in his Christmas boxers with the snowmen on them and they were about a foot deep in crumbs and both were holding over-sized coffee mugs from Disneyland (present from some relative a long time ago, they both had the cracks and stains to show their age and poor care) that held, not coffee, but hot chocolate. He couldn’t really imagine a more ridiculous setting than the one they were in right now. Billy raised an eyebrow at Dom.

“Okay. Kind of ridiculous.” Dom always knew exactly what Billy was thinking. Well, most of the time. The man wasn’t a fucking mind-reader, thank God. “You know how I was in L.A. with Sean and his brother and stuff?”

“Yeah.” Billy couldn’t really imagine Sean and his brother having a connection to chocolate, but then again, he’d never imagined Sean to prance about calling Sam a fat fuck. Go figure.

“So I spent a lot of time at Sean’s or with Sean. Saw his family a lot. You know, his kids and Christine.” As if Billy expected Dom to see a lot of Sean’s grandmother and second cousin while visiting Sean’s family.

“Go on,” Billy encouraged after a long pause from Dom in which he shoved a whole piece of toast into his mouth. He waited patiently while Dom chewed.

“Uh. Where was I?”

“You saw a lot of Sean’s family,” Billy replied, still patient.

“Oh right.” Dom gave him a pained look, but went on. “I’d be over there for lunch a lot. And Christine always made Ally a peanut butter sandwich for lunch while I was there and she always had either lemonade or chocolate milk with it.” He stopped.

“And?”

“And she always asked if I wanted a sandwich, kind of as a joke, and I always said no. Until after a couple weeks, Ally tore her sandwich in half and gave it to me.” Another pause.

“Keep going.”

“I told her I didn’t want it, that she should eat it herself, and she gave me this kind of...kind of exasperated look. Kind of like the one Sean gets when we ask him something stupid like if he’s got his car keys or if he’s checked for all the emergency exits in case of a hurricane. You know the look. And she says...she says...I don’t remember her exact words. But she said it so matter-of-factly, she was so serious when she said it.” Billy didn’t know if Dom realized it, but his voice grew softer, gentler when he spoke about Ally. They’d always had a special bond, one that Billy had never really understood, but had respected and envied, a little, all the same. “She said something about it being care and love and - oh shit, I sound like such a dick when I say it. You’ve got to talk to a kid to hear it, she was so sincere and...and...I guess I wanted a little of whatever she thought was so great about that lunch. A little of that love, that caring that she saw in it.” Again, a blush rose on Dom’s cheeks, and he gazed down at then now-empty cup. “I told you it was ridiculous. Stupid, I know.”

Billy didn’t say anything, only shook his head and leaned forward, taking away the tray of what remained of their breakfast and the coffee mugs and setting them on the nightstand. And then he leaned forward again, and pressed his lips to Dom’s in a soft kiss, sticky with toast crumbs and jam and flavored faintly with hot chocolate.

As Dom returned the kiss and added several others, crawling closer to Billy and slipping beneath the covers again, Billy knew why he shouldn’t have let Dom stay last night.

Billy knew why he didn’t want to be in love with Dom.

Because every night that Dom stayed, every time they kissed, every moment they spent together, Billy was falling harder and deeper and longer than before. And the longer you fall, the harder the bottom hits you when finally reach it. And it can take a long, long time to get up again after falling.

-TBC-


	7. Chapter 7

Billy was running out of options when it came to Dom. He couldn’t talk to Dom, not about their relationship. Every time he tried to approach the subject, it ended, it always ended, with stony silence, a complaint of, “do we *have* to talk about this now?”, or, in Billy’s favorite method of avoidance, sex.

Billy could at least take reassurance in the fact that he wasn’t the only one unwilling to talk.

And he would have taken reassurance if not for one small fact. Billy wanted to talk. In fact, Billy *needed* to talk.

Billy’s emotions had been in a constant state of distress since his conversation with Elijah and his own internal revelation. He was lost, completely lost, and he needed someone to guide him more than ever. And he didn’t know who to turn to.

Elijah would tell him to have a fag, tell Dom he loved him, and then shag like monkeys. Not very helpful in the long wrong, thanks for nothing, Lij, you little turd. (No, Billy was not resentful of the fact that Elijah had pointed out some very true facts about himself, so just shut up.)

Sean would tell him to buy a dog and have children, because, “being a father is truly one of the most rewarding and enriching experiences a man can have in his lifetime.” Which was probably true, but Billy would rather sort his own life out before he even attempted to drag a child into the mix (and then, consequently, fuck up the child’s life too. Lovely, Bill. Just lovely).

So that scratched out Lij and Sean.

Orlando? If he could catch him between making blockbusters and photo ops. And what would Orli say, anyway? "Um, er, I don’t know, maybe you should just break up for good?” Orlando was crap at giving advice, an armadillo would be more helpful.

Armadillos were, Billy assumed, very stupid. But he could be wrong. Billy wasn’t on speaking terms with any armadillos at the moment.

He could call Liv, Billy supposed. But that probably wouldn’t work, she’d just bubble over with happiness about her marriage. And then Billy would pour out his sob story. Then she’d be sympathetic and distressed for him. And then the next thing Billy knew, she’d be flying out to hold his hand and just make him feel like a regular schmuck for being pathetic and disrupting her life.

So scratch Liv and Orli.

It was then, sitting on his bed, staring at the phone, that it hit him. Ian. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of Ian before? Ian was old, wise, and most importantly, Ian was gay.

If anyone could offer Billy guidance, it would be Ian.

Thrilled with his own logic, Billy picked up the phone and began a dialing. A few moments later, he was plunged into a tirade of Ian was *not* Dear bloody Abby, that Ian’s sole purpose was *not* to provide counsel for every gay actor to ever walk the planet, and Ian did *not* like to be interrupted during his morning coffee. And then, in the same breath, “how are you doing, dear boy?”

Billy blinked stupidly at the phone. Why was calling Ian a good idea again?

“Billy?”

Dazed, Billy brought the receiver back to his ear and said, “Ian, I think I might be in love with him.”

“Think?” Ian said (or actually, growled) into the phone. “All this nonsense of I love, he loves, you love - it’s ridiculous, really. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Billy, but love does not come wrapped in a neat package with a pretty bow. That’s the watered-down, fairy-tale, Disney version. They lead you to believe that love comes prancing in on a white horse in shining armor - but that’s not true. Not in this life. In this reality, sometimes you just have to close your eyes and *risk* it.”

Billy’s eyes were closed and he swallowed audibly against the sudden lump in his throat. “I...I...” he began, but stopped, afraid of the tears he’d kept hidden from the time Dom had left, a year ago, that were threatening to finally fall.

“Yes,” Ian pressed gently, his voice soft, gentle.

“I think I want to take that risk,” Billy said, his voice little more than a breath of air. “I want to take that risk with Dom, Ian,” he whispered. And oh God! It was such a relief to say it, to finally accept it, to finally *know*, Billy nearly broke own in tears right then. Oh God. He could *breathe* again.

“I’m glad to hear it Billy. I truly am.” And Billy could see Ian’s smile, pleased and knowing, from where he sat on his bed in Scotland, grinding the heel of his palm against his forehead, telling himself, don’t cry, don’t *cry*.

Finally, Billy gave a tremulous smile and spoke again. “Yeah? Me too.”

“Good luck Billy.”

“Thanks Ian.” And with that, Billy hung up, still smiling quietly to himself. He needed to be alone, quiet for this moment. He needed to fully realize what he was going to say to Dom.

He was going to tell Dom that he *loved* him.

Finally, finally, finally, he was going to say those word to Dom, the same words he should have said so many months ago. And then Dom...and then, Billy didn’t know what came next exactly. Except that he could finally breathe again. He could finally give his mind, his emotions, a moment of peace. Finally.

And Billy laughed to think of it. He couldn’t contain his almost hysterical joy over the idea of finally being able to let go of so much pain, hurt, and so he laughed, loudly, until he could barely breathe.

It was the sound of his laughter that drew Dom out of wherever he’d been lurking and into Billy’s bedroom. Dom appeared in the doorway, “What are *you* laughing at, Boyd?” and then threw himself at the bed, at Billy. His hands captured Billy, pulled him to him and laid him flat on the bed as he threw a leg over Billy, told him sternly to stop squirming, and then held him in place with his legs and gave Billy a through tickling with his hands until tears ran down Billy’s face and he convulsed with silent laughter.

Grinning, Dom rolled off of Billy, allowed him a minute or two to catch his breath before demanding, “So, what was so funny?”

Billy didn’t answer though, only smiled gently at Dom before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Dom’s confused lips. “I have something to tell you,” he whispered against Dom’s lips.

“Really?” Dom smiled, leaned forward to kiss Billy again. “I have something to tell you too,” he added, drawing away again. There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes and Billy smiled back, intrigued.

“You go first,” Billy said, still whispering, and pulled away from Dom. The smile remained and he looked at Dom expectantly. “Go on. Tell.”

“I’m going home Tuesday,” Dom announced and his face took on an excited look. “The flat I’ve been waiting for, the tenants finally moved out, and-.”

Billy stared at Dom, nodded weakly even as his smile faded away and the light in his eyes dimmed. Dom was chattering on, but Billy wasn’t registering a word he said. He could only hear Dom’s voice, saying those words again and again.

_I’m going home Tuesday._

Dom was...leaving.

Suddenly, Billy felt like vomiting, crying, punching Dom, and holding Dom close, all at once.

Dom was leaving him.

And hearing it a third time hurt even more than that first unexpected blow.

\---

_“Billy?”_

_“Yeah Dom?” Billy rolls over, bumps into Dom. “Oops. Sorry.”_

_“S’okay.” Instead of moving away, Dom inches closer until he’s the one bumping, nudges Billy with his elbow until Billy sighs and opens his arms up to Dom. Dom smiles, wraps himself up in Billy, and sighs against the juncture between Billy’s neck and shoulder._

_“Comfortable?”_

_“Very.” Dom grins and presses a gentle kiss to the spot. Billy gives a hum of pleasure, his skin vibrating under Dom’s lips and his hands stroke idly at Dom’s back. “Billy?”_

_“What is it Dom?” Billy’s voice is sleepy, the movements of his hands across Dom’s back growing slower, more drowsy._

_Dom mumbles something unintelligible into Billy’s neck._

_“Eh?” Billy blinks and he pats at Dom’s back, a little disoriented, trying to bring him back to himself, to Dom. “What’d you say?”_

_“I said...I think I’m gonna be leaving. Soon.”_

_“How soon is soon?” Billy sounds a little more awake, now. A little upset. “In five minutes? Tomorrow? Another week?”_

_Again, an unintelligible mumble into Billy’s neck._

_Billy frowns, pries Dom off of him and sits up. His forehead creases as he frowns, glares almost, at Dom. “When are you leaving, Dom?” And ice drips off his words._

_Dom cringes inwardly, but gives Billy a brilliant smile. “I don’t know. Day after tomorrow, maybe?”_

_“Maybe?” Billy’s frown deepens._

_“All right. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, on the three o’clock flight.” Dom tears his eyes away from Billy’s, tries to focus on the bed, the floor, the window, anything but Billy. But he finds his eyes drawn back and he sees Billy, sad and broken, a noticeable droop to his lips and a dejected gleam to his eyes. “Hey.” Dom smiles and move close to Billy again, winding one arm around the other man and drawing him close._

_“Hey yourself.” Billy sighs and rests his head against Dom’s gently. “I miss you when you’re gone.”_

_“I miss me too.”_

_Billy rolls his eyes and starts to pull away from Dom, but is stopped by Dom’s hand on his shoulder. “Everything is a joke, isn’t it, Dommie?” he asks. And his voice is sad._

_“Well, not *everything* per se...”_

_“Almost *everything* is, per se.”_

_“Aw, Billy.” Dom reaches out and pulls him close again, pressing his lips to Billy’s forehead. “You know I miss you too.”_

_And now would be the perfect time for Billy to ask Dom to *stay*. But he doesn’t. And Dom doesn’t mention it either, only strokes his fingers down the inside of Billy’s arm and observes, “You’re cute when you frown.”_

_To Dom’s intense pleasure, Billy’s frown becomes a full out scowl. “I am not *cute*.” Only his accent’s thicker when he’s sleepy. So it sounds much less threatening then it was meant to sound and makes Dom laugh before leaning forward to kiss Billy._

_“Yes, you are.” Dom insists, and his hand comes up to trace the lines of Billy’s scowl with the tip of one finger. “Perfectly...adorable.”_

_Billy’s jaw drops and he nearly shouts with the indignity. “I am not adorable!”_

_“Yeah you are.” Dom ignores Billy’s silent fuming and grins, continues. “You’ve got a cute little nose.”_

_“Shut up,” Billy grumbles even as Dom’s lips brush at the tip of the feature._

_“And a cute little face.”_

_“I’m serious. Shut UP.” Dom’s lips graze Billy’s cheek._

_“And look, you’ve got a cute mouth too.” Dom smiled at Billy before leaning in and kissing him. Billy smiles against Dom’s lips, a bit reluctantly, and sighs, reaching up with one hand to pull Dom closer to him, deepening the kiss until Dom is moaning, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other gripping Billy, desperately._

_“You sound cute when you moan,” Billy whispers, his voice low, throaty, and his accent thick in Dom’s ear._

_God. Dom loves his voice._

_“Don’t take my lines,” Dom scolds and he grins at Billy, and there is more than just mischief in his eyes, there is *promise*. “Know what else is cute?”_

_“Tell me,” Billy says and his eyes reflect the promise in Dom’s as Dom’s hand makes its way beneath the sheets, rests on top of Billy’s stomach lightly._

_“Better yet, I’ll show you.” And Dom’s smile remains even as his hand slides down over Billy’s stomach to close over the beginnings of his erection._

_And Billy sighs and closes his eyes and tries to forget that Dom will be leaving soon._

\---

Billy didn’t want a replay of last year’s episode. He didn’t want to swallow his words back and just kiss Dom and fuck him and pretend that, this is okay.

Because it wasn’t okay.

It wasn’t okay that Dom was leaving. It wasn’t okay that Dom was leaving and probably wouldn’t speak to Billy again for another year. It wasn’t okay that they couldn’t speak now.

There was *nothing* okay about the situation.

And Billy was helpless at changing it.

He didn’t want to tell Dom he loved him now. Because what if Dom left anyway? And then, this time, never came back?

Oh God.

It was better to say nothing and keep Dom close to him than risk everything and drive Dom away.

Safer.

Easier.

Billy was a coward. And he knew it. And it made him sick to think of it. But what was he supposed to do, in the end?

Love.

Billy was tired of that word. If he loved Dom, if this was love, Billy didn’t want any part of it . He didn’t want this hurt, this ache, the almost painful happiness when Dom was near and then the way his life fell apart when Dom was gone. He didn’t want to spend his life always wanting to know where Dom was, what Dom was doing, who Dom was with. If Dom was happy with Billy or if Dom wanted more. If he had made the right choice in staying with Dom.

Billy didn’t want any part in it at *all*.

So he stayed quiet, helped Dom wash his clothes, pack his suitcases, and gave him a couple books for waiting in crowded airports and bought him a CD for the flight. And then he made Dom a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch on Monday. The day before Dom was to leave. And he stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the sandwich in his hands.

_She said something about it being care and love..._

But Dom wasn’t a kid. He wouldn’t think of it being more than a sandwich. That Billy was just slapping a sandwich together because he was already in the kitchen, because that was the sort of thing Billy did. He wouldn’t take a peanut butter sandwich as being an eternal symbol of love.

Billy smiled and shook his head. Nobody would. It was just a sandwich for Christ sake. It was *lunch*. It wasn’t a fucking symbol of *anything*. And he shouldn’t think of it being like that. Because it *wasn’t*.

“Here.” Billy dropped the sandwich in front of Dom on his way to the other side of the table, holding his own lunch. Some kind of microwaveable meal. Billy frowned and poked his fork at his lunch.

If anything, he was going to miss Dom’s cooking.

“Thanks.” Dom reached for the sandwich, picked it up and studied it for a moment, a smile flickering across his face. He put it to his lips, changed his mind, and then sat the sandwich back down on the paper napkin Billy had brought with it.

“Something the matter with it?” Billy asked, watching as Dom lifted it again and then put it back down without taking a bite. He sighed. He really was falling apart if he couldn’t make a proper sandwich anymore. Miserable, Billy stabbed at his microwave meal again. Disgusting piece of sludge. How had he ever managed to eat it before?

“No. It’s fine.” Dom looked at the sandwich again and smiled at it.

Was Dom falling in love with the sandwich? Because he certainly was looking like he was.

“Hey Billy.” Dom spoke abruptly, just as Billy was about to suggest he and the sandwich move into the bedroom.

“Hey Dommie.”

“You sure you don’t remember anything about that night?”

“Which night?” Billy looked up from his microwaveable sludge and watched, curious, as Dom’s fingers toyed with the sandwich. Still smiling down at it. Maybe he was going to propose to it next? Billy wondered what a sandwich would do with a ring.

“The night you got drunk.”

“Oh. *That* night.” Billy thought. He had vague memories of singing, of being propelled up the stairs and into bed by Dom. He remembered saying something...something...but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. “Why? Did I propose or something? You want me to make an honest man out of you, is that it, Dom?”

Please say yes.

Billy scowled at his subconscious’s interjection and resumed stabbing his lunch with his fork.

“Not exactly.” Dom’s eyes flickered up to meet Billy’s and he smiled again, widely, brightly at Billy. “You just said something...”

“...Whatever I said, I was drunk. I’m sure that whatever I was saying I didn’t mean.” Billy shrugged and forced himself to take a bite. Not bad. For microwaveable sludge.

“Yeah.” Dom gave a slightly forced-sounding laugh. “You probably didn’t mean it at all.” His smiled faded a bit and resolutely, he reached out, grabbed his sandwich, and took a bite.

“What’d I say?”

“That I was the best you’d ever had.”

“Well I was definitely drunk then.” Billy smirked at Dom. Dom grinned back. And for a moment, Billy was able to forget that Dom was leaving tomorrow.

-TBC-


	8. Chapter 8

“I love you.” Billy paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat before speaking again.

“It’s not even love anymore. It’s beyond love. You…Dom…you are *everything*. When I’m with you, I can barely *breathe* because my head is spinning so much from everything I feel. There’s this…this…this exhilaration to be with you. And I’m so *happy* then…I forget why I’m depressed or angry or just not okay. All I can do is laugh and smile and stare at you because you, you’re beautiful to look at. Beautiful in this crazy, happy, laughing existence you live, that you drag me into.

“But at the same time, Dom…you break my heart. Because there’s sadness to your mouth, in your eyes sometimes. And I know you don’t want me…least of all me, to see that sometimes you’re not that strong. That you’re only human, that you can crumble and weaken and break just like anyone else. And it breaks my heart to see you, so sad, and so alone because you don’t think you can reach out for anyone.

“And sometimes I *want* you to break. Because that way I don’t feel so guilty when *I* need you. When I want to reach out for you.” Billy stopped there and bowed his head, his voice thick and heavy through unshed tears, emotion. “I love you, Dom. I…” Billy’s voice died off and he lifted his head to glance over at Dom.

Dom lay beside him, his eyes closed and the same slight upwards curve of the lips he’d fallen asleep with still gracing his face. Billy sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, his fingertips gently tracing the curve of Dom’s face. The unshaved face was rough beneath his fingertips.

“Sometimes it’s easier to say things when you’re asleep,” Billy murmured and gave a small, sad smile at Dom before leaning down and dropping a light kiss against Dom’s lips. Beneath him, Dom stirred slightly and Billy pulled back slightly, his breath caught between his lips, and he held it, waiting to see Dom’s reaction. Dom sighed and shifted beneath the covers, turned his away from Billy.

Disappointed, Billy sat back and frowned down at the sleeping man.

Dom was leaving later that day. That afternoon. And Billy was no closer to a satisfactory conclusion than he had been the day that Dom arrived. A month ago. One whole fucking *month* Billy had spent with Dom, with nobody *but* Dom and still, he couldn’t pull himself together for five fucking *minutes* to tell Dom what he should hear. What Billy *needed* him to hear.

But now was not the time, Billy realized unhappily, gazing down at Dom, the bittersweet taste of his confession still lying heavy on his lips. “I can’t tell you now, can I?” Billy asked softly. His voice was hoarse, resigned. “And if I can’t tell you now, if I couldn’t tell you before…I can’t ever tell you, *can* I?” Because how could he tell Dom, tell Dom that he *loved* him the day that Dom was to leave?

Dom would stay, Billy knew this. Because Billy was Dom’s best friend. Because Billy was Billy and because Dom had promised Billy, so many times, if you need me, I’m there. And Billy needed Dom.

But he didn’t need Dom’s pity.

He didn’t need the guilt-ridden, pitying Dom to stay with him. He didn’t need Dom to feel fucking *sorry* for him.

And if he told Dom now, woke him up and told him at this very moment, what else could Dom do but say, I’ll stay? Billy was his best *friend*. Dom was anything, if not loyal. Devoted. And because he was loyal to Billy, devoted to their relationship, he would stay with Billy. Out of loyalty. Out of devotion. Because he would feel that he *had* to.

Billy didn’t want to be anyone’s duty.

“I guess this was never going to work, was it, Dom?” Billy whispered and blinked at a haze of tears. Goddamn fucking *tears*. Billy brushed at them angrily and said, louder, “It wasn’t meant to be, was it? Dom and Billy were never meant to be lovers, never meant to be in love. Because if they were, they - *we* - would know it by now. Wouldn’t we? *Wouldn’t* we, Dom?”

And Dom’s eyes slowly drifted open and he smiled, a sleepy happy smile, up at Billy and said, “Wouldn’t we what?”

Billy didn’t know how to respond. It was as though all his senses left him when Dom was there, awake and fully aware of Billy. He couldn’t think of a thing to say and finally, after a long, awkward pause – “Er. Nothing?”

Brilliant, Boyd. He’ll buy that.

Dom raised an eyebrow at Billy. “Er. Nothing,” he mimicked. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“Er. Nothing?”

Maybe that could become Billy’s catchphrase. “Er. Nothing?” It kind of summed up his life at the moment.

“It’s too fucking early to be playing mind games.” Dom rolled at eye toward the clock and grimaced. “What the fuck are you doing up anyway?”

“Er. Nothing?” Billy winced as the words left his mouth. He didn’t even have control over his mouth anymore. He couldn’t really blame Dom for staring at him like he was a moron.

Dom gave Billy an incredulous shake of the head. “Shut up,” he said finally and scrambled to a sitting position, leaning forward to wrap a hand around Billy’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

If Billy’s senses left him when Dom was awake, his mind completely evaporated when Dom kissed him. “No,” Billy whispered when Dom started to pull away, his hand reaching out and clawing at Dom’s t-shirt, his fingers clenched around the thin fabric and keeping Dom close to him, close enough to feel Dom’s breath whish across his lips, to feel the heat radiating between their bodies.

“No?” Dom whispered back and his voice was a low, hot rumble that echoed in Billy’s mind. “No what?”

“Don’t stop,” Billy said and his voice grew lower and a plaintive note became more prominent as he fisted his hand and pulled Dom toward him, their noses, foreheads bumping lightly together. “*Please*. Don’t *stop*.” And Billy hated the way a whine, a beg, crept into his voice.

Dom had no words for Billy, instead bowing his head slightly to find Billy’s lips, to fumble against them, to slowly tease them open and to follow the flow of his mouth with the tip of his tongue, to learn the lines of Billy’s teeth and the curve of his cheek. His eyes shut tight against the slow burn of tears, Billy’s fingers glided smoothly up under Dom’s t-shirt, across the firm muscles of his abdomen; tease the sharp lines of his hips and the angles of his chest. It was different, touching Dom than a woman, Dom didn’t squirm and pull away, try to suck in his stomach and he didn’t shriek and tell Billy that he was too fat and try to drag a compliment from Billy’s unwilling lips. There wasn’t a bra for him to struggle with and to feel ridiculous and raw as his lover rolled her eyes and unsnapped the stupid thing herself. The muscles were harder and more pronounced; the lines of bone and flesh defined and strong beneath Billy’s hand, short wiry curls of hair grazing his hand.

“Billy? What are you doing?” Dom whispered, breaking off the kiss suddenly and staring at Billy.

“Er. Nothing?” A small guilty blush flushed the back of Billy’s neck as he bowed his head and pulled his hand out from Dom’s shirt, grasping the edge of the fabric and tugging it up over Dom’s head.

“I like your kind of nothing.” Billy laughed at the quirky lift of the eyebrows Dom gave him and crawled closer to him, his legs sliding neatly over Dom’s, fitting them together in a perfect, close tangle, and kissing him.

And because kissing leads to other things, and other things lead to more things, it wasn’t long before Dom was begging Billy his voice echoing memories of days past, _“Harder, faster, dammit Billy, FUCK ME!”_

And because Billy loved Dom and because Dom was leaving and because he didn’t know what else to do, Billy did just that.

\---

“Got all your stuff?” Billy asked for the umpteenth time, unable to think of anything better to say.

Dom sighed. “Yeah.”

“Your toothbrush?”

“Yeah.”

“Your wallet?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your-,”

“Yes *Mum*, I’ve got my ticket and my passport and I’ve even got clean pants on, so stop worrying.”

“Well, somebody needs to,” Billy muttered and slumped down in his chair, looking away from Dom and out the window. In the chair next to him, Dom turned his head in the opposite direction and slumped down, an unintentional mimicry of Billy’s motions. Billy smiled to himself as he caught a glimpse of Dom, arms folded defiantly across his chest. Billy unfolded his own arms and watched, silent, as a series of planes took off and landed.

Now would be the time to say something.

Now would be the time to do something.

Now would be the time for….anything.

There were precious few minutes left before Dom left, minutes that were quickly turning to seconds and seconds that were quickly filtering through Billy’s loose grasp on them. And while he sat there, watching the planes take off and land, he struggled to find the words to say.

It was too late though, wasn’t it?

He’d been through this countless times, more times than he wanted to remember.

Dom is leaving you today, Billy told himself sternly. He is going to walk onto that plane. That plane is going to take off. And you will never see him like this again.

_Never._

Never was really a very long time if Billy thought about it. Slowly, his eyes lifted from the planes and made their way to meet Dom’s eyes. Dom smiled at him, a quick tiny curve of the lips. His eyes were dark, grey, a little sad and a little forlorn. Billy held them with his own for a long moment, locking away in the back of his mind the curl of Dom’s lash, the arch of his brow and the slant of his eye.

He would see Dom again. Billy knew that much. He *would* see Dom again. But it would never…it would never be like this. Not just sitting, quiet and comfortable, their eyes locked on one another’s without the need to pull away or to fill the silence with a jumble of awkward words. Billy would never be able to sit so closely to Dom, to feel the heat of Dom’s leg pressed against his followed by that same delicious, sexual thrill that traveled up his spine at the electricity that crackled between their bodies. He would never kiss Dom again, not like he had kissed him this morning, lingering, warm, wet.

If Dom left now, Billy would relinquish all claims on his body, on his mind, on any part of him. If Dom left now, Billy would fade back into the position of friend, mate, acquaintance, and allow the title of lover and confidant to fall from his grasp.

All this tumbled through Billy’s mind as his eyes locked on Dom’s, as he memorized them, memorized the soft freckles that hovered beneath the surface of his skin, the slightly bluish tinge hovering beneath his eyes, the rough stubble that prickled over his face. Dom’s eyes, still a little sad, were serene, calm.

Billy knew that if Dom left now, Dom would be okay. That if Dom left now, *Billy* would be okay. Billy had lived without Dom before – it hadn’t been a great existence but it had been *an* existence. He could do it again. And now that he knew, knew what to expect, it could be better.

Billy would never find anyone to find Dom’s place. There was no other Dom; there would never be another Dom.

Billy believed in love.

But he also believed in second chances. He believed in different kinds of love. He believed that everything works out in the end.

Billy was in love with Dom. He loved Dom in ways he couldn’t explain, not even to himself, and he loved him in small, minute ways that made perfect sense. And he knew that he would *always* love Dom like this.

Dom might have been his first chance.

But there would be a second chance. Maybe a third.

If Dom left, Billy would eventually, find a way to make room for someone else. There would be someone who could take what little space Dom had left in Billy’s heart and life, and settle themselves into it. Someone who could be content to reside along the broken fragments and someone who could love what Billy had left to give.

Everything would work out in the end.

He’d lived without Dom before. He could do it again.

And Billy’s lips broke into a gentle smile as he settled back into his seat. His eyes reflected the calm serenity of Dom’s as he slowly let the cards slip from his hand and into Dom’s.

It was all in Dom’s hand now.

Billy would be content with whatever Dom dealt him.

\---

They were calling Dom’s flight number.

“That’s your flight,” Billy whispered, nudging Dom’s shoulder gently.

Dom’s eyes glanced out the window. At the plane that would take him away from Scotland and from Billy in a few short minutes. “That’s my flight,” he echoed. He didn’t move though to grab his bags, only turned his head to face Billy. “That’s my flight,” he said again. His smile was crooked, tremulous as he met Billy’s eyes. “My flight,” he said helplessly.

“Are you going to get on it?” Billy was held to his spot by Dom’s eyes, by the sudden insecurity and doubt in them. _Stay. Please, please, say that you’ll stay._ His palms went slick with cold sweat, his mouth dry, and his heart raced as he stared at Dom. _Please._

Dom frowned at him and he tore away his eyes from Billy’s. “Of course I’m going to get on it,” he said, bending to grab his bags. His tone was scoffing. “Would be a bloody huge waste of money if I didn’t get on the plane. They don’t refund tickets this late.”

_I’ll refund the damn ticket if you would just say that you’ll stay._

“You gone daft or something Bill? Why wouldn’t I go?” Was it just Billy’s imagination or was there a hint of hysterics to Dom’s voice. “Of course I’m going. I’m going home.” What did Dom expect Billy to say? What did Dom *want* him to say.

Dom was only a few inches away from Billy now, a bag grasped in each hand. His jaw was set determinedly.

Billy was standing between Dom and the gate.

Billy gave up and stepped aside. “Of course you’re going home,” he said wearily, rubbing a hand across his face. “Of course you are,” he mumbled as Dom stepped close to him once again.

“Bill…”

“Yeah?” Billy looked up to see Dom standing uncertainly before him. “What is it?”

“Thanks.” Dom smiled, dropped a bag to give Billy a one-armed hug and smacked a wet, warm kiss to Billy’s cheek. “I miss you, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Billy ducked out from Dom’s embrace, took a wobbly step or two back.

Dom’s flight was called for a final time.

“You’d better go,” Billy forced himself to say. Stay, damn it, STAY.

“I’d better.” Dom gave Billy another offhand smile as he hoisted his bag again. “Well. Good bye then.”

Billy nodded weakly, fighting to keep back the words that kept rising unbidden to his lips.

_I love you._

_Don’t leave me._

_Do you love me? A little?_

_Please stay._

_I love you._

“Dom!” The name forced itself from Billy’s lips and he gasped his hand flying up, too late, to press his lips shut.

Dom turned; his fingers paused in the act of withdrawing his boarding pass. Beside him stood an irritated airline attendant. He raised an eyebrow – what?

“Why…” Billy’s was convinced he’d burst into tears if he kept talking. Just shut up Boyd, just shut up. “Why…”

“Sir?” The attendant addressed Dom; annoyance making her hit the title too hard, too edgily.

“Just a minute, willya?” Dom glared at her. “Billy? What is it?”

“Why did you leave? Before?” Billy’s voice was miserable and he was terrified he’d break out in tears, bawl out that he loved Dominic, fall on his knees and beg Dom to stay.

Dom hadn’t even left yet and already Billy was falling apart. Already his life was unraveling.

Could he *really* manage without Dom?

“*Sir*. Are you boarding the plane or not?” Any semblance of politeness had left the attendant’s voice; she was past curt and stepping into downright rude. “We *do* have a schedule to keep.”

Dom’s gaze flickered from her, to the plane, to Billy. Resolutely, he shoved his papers at her. “There. Happy?”

“Excruciatingly.” She glared at him, shook his boarding pass out of its envelope.

“*Dom*.”

“What the hell do you want from me Billy?” Dom turned and shrugged at Billy. “I left because you never asked me to stay. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Everything appears to be in order sir. Please feel free to board the plane at anytime.” The attendant handed Dom his papers and he stuffed them into his pocket without even glancing at her or retorting to her sarcasm.

_Ask him now._

_I can’t._

_ASK HIM._

But before Billy could draw up the courage to reply to Dom, to ask him to stay, to tell him that he loved him, Dom had shaken his head and boarded the plane without so much as a glance for Billy.

Stunned, Billy sank into one of the cold, hard, plastic chairs that surrounded him. The noise and motion of the airport faded into a distant blur and he watched feeling slightly sick and slightly horrified as Dom’s plane went into motion.

He followed it with his eyes until it was only a small dot in the sky, until it was nothing but a streak of white smoke, and when it was nothing but blue sky, he let out a soft sob. It felt as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him, as though someone had delivered a swift deliberate punch to his stomach.

Dom was gone.

“Fuck,” he whispered and wiped a hand at his eye, hoping that the sharp sting of tears wouldn’t pool and drop. “Fuck,” he whispered again as a tear fell. It was just one tear. That didn’t mean anything. Another fell. All right, two tears. That didn’t constitute as crying. Three, four, five tears – that wasn’t crying. Six, seven, eight – that wasn’t crying either.

Men weren’t supposed to cry. Men weren’t supposed to fall apart and fall so deeply in love that they lost themselves. Men weren’t supposed to obsess over saying I love you and men weren’t supposed to break down in deep heaving sobs in public places.

But Billy had never been good at being what he was supposed to be.

So Billy hoped that there wasn’t anyone he knew about before covering his face with his hands and breaking down in deep heaving sobs in a public place, adding his sorrow to the mix of noise and mess of life that surrounded him.

_I didn’t really think he’d go._

-TBC-


	9. Chapter 9

It took Billy several hours of driving around town, windows rolled down so that that cool evening air would dry the tears that insisted on rolling cheeks and the radio turned on as loudly as it would go before he felt composed enough to return home.

Only home was different with Dom gone. It was quiet and dark when Billy entered. There weren’t lights on in every room, the radio going in the kitchen, the television blaring in the living room, and Dom crashing down the stairs, ready to greet Billy with smiles and laughter and kisses that made Billy forget that Dom was running up a small fortune in electricity bills. There wasn’t the smell and warmth of dinner cooking floating down the hall from the kitchen to meet Billy.

It felt quite lonely, actually, Billy thought in a detached sort of way as he slowly laid his keys down on a table and hung his coat up in the closet. It was exactly the same as it had been a month ago. It was as though Dom had never been there.

But Dom *had* been there. There wasn’t tangible evidence, but Billy could feel it in his bones as he padded softly through the quiet house, turning lights on as he went. He could almost see Dom’s leg hanging over the arm of a chair (he never sat right, he always sat sideways and flung his legs over the chair’s arm), he could almost hear the horrible music that Elijah had gotten Dom hooked on pouring out of his stereo. He could nearly *feel* Dom’s presence as he entered the kitchen.

There was a jar of peanut butter sitting on the counter and Billy nearly vomited as he swiftly reached for it and tossed into the rubbish bin. Further back on the counter stood a small squat bowl that held the tiny black fish Dom brought back for Billy. The only thing Dom had left behind. Slowly, Billy reached out, his fingers grazing the cool glass gently. “Hey,” he whispered as a curious fish swam close to his fingers. The fish was joined by several others and Billy watched as they circled each other, bumped themselves on the glass, and swam back. They looked confused and Billy smiled half-heartedly. “Yeah. I don’t know what to do without him either.”

Sighing, Billy turned away from the fish. He couldn’t stay in this kitchen any longer.

Slowly, Billy made his way upstairs, his hand ghosting over the staircase rail uncertainly. Everywhere he turned he was greeted by a memory of Dom.

It would be even harder, this time, learning to live in spite of Dom’s memory. Billy could tell already as he forced himself to step past the room that had been Dom’s and to continue into his own. But his own bedroom spoke of Dom just as heavily. Billy evaded the bed that was still unmade, sheets still rumpled from that morning’s activities. If Billy lay down, he’d be able to catch the last traces of Dom’s scent…with a great sense of determination, Billy forced himself away from the bed and over to the bathroom. There weren’t any memories of Dom here. This was a good, neutral place.

And then Billy caught sight of Dom’s toothpaste perched next to the sink and nearly burst into tears. If memories of brushing his teeth next to Dom moved him this deeply, what would memories of holding Dom do to him? Forcing the thought to the back of his mind, Billy stumbled backwards, out of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom. He couldn’t *move* just because he could smell Dom on his bed linen, just because Dom’s toothpaste was in his bathroom, just because Dom’s ghost wandered his life. He’d just have to wait out this pain, it would fade, the memories would fade, just as the scent would vanish and the toothpaste would dry and crumble.

He just had to wait, that was all. Billy was patient. He could wait this out.

Nodding his head in self-agreement, Billy turned back toward the bed. He could see a red number two glowing on the answering machine…new messages. And just as he’d managed to calm himself, Billy’s heart gave an alarming thud in his chest and his hopes went spiraling. Maybe Dom had called. Maybe Dom had changed his mind, was going to turn around and come back to Scotland, to Billy, instead of boarding the next connection.

Billy nearly pounced on the machine.

A low gravelly voice was heard, one that definitely was not Dom’s. “…I had really thought…well. Never mind what I thought.” A sigh. “It’s just that this is such a disappointment…I had hoped...but never mind that either. I’m sure you acted for the best.” Another lengthy sigh followed by the solid click of a phone being hung up.

Ian.

Billy’s throat constricted painfully and he quickly deleted the message. Maybe the next message was Dom’s, his hopes whispered to him. Maybe. You never know.

But as soon as the first shrill note of the message was heard, Billy knew it wasn’t Dom. It was Elijah. “Fucking stupid fucking *fucker*! How could you let him go? HOW COULD YOU LET HIM *GO*? Does nothing I say penetrate your stupid fat fucking skull into your stupid *brain*?! Why Billy, WHY? God damn it, just tell me *why* and I’ll shut up forever. Just…oh for Christ’s sake, Billy you moron-,”

Billy had heard enough. He deleted the message without ever hearing the rest of Elijah’s sentence and picked up the phone, his finger beating the number into it. “Don’t you *ever* call my house and fucking preach your bloody gospel into it again,” Billy snapped into the phone as soon as Elijah answered with a cheery, hello! “You haven’t got the faintest bloody clue what’s going on so don’t you *dare* pull the fucking saint and martyr act with *me*.”

“Billy? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be? It’s certainly not Prince bloody Charming!” Billy was screaming by now and although a small voice whispered, stop, Elijah loves you, he’s only trying to help, he couldn’t stop now that he’d begun. And if it was wrong to vent on Elijah, Billy didn’t care because it felt *good* to scream and to cry and blame Elijah for everything. “Who the *fuck* do you think you are, leaving messages like that? My mother? The queen? *God*?”

Elijah’s voice was frightened. “Billy, calm down-,”

“I WON’T calm down. Who are *you* to tell me how I should and shouldn’t act? Who are *you* to tell me who I should have in my life and who I shouldn’t, I should I love and who I shouldn’t. Why do I owe *you* of all people a goddamn explanation.”

“I’m not telling you any of that! You don’t owe me a thing!”

“Fuck off Elijah! Just fuck the bloody fuck *off*. You don’t know anything, not about me, not about Dom, and you *certainly* don’t know anything about our relationship. You have absolutely no right at all to call and leave messages about how I shouldn’t let him go and how I’m a moron and how I should tell *you* why…”

“Fuck YOU Billy.” Elijah was pissed now, had forgotten that he was supposed to soothe Billy, to lie back and let Billy scream. “You’re screaming and cussing at *me* when it’s *Dom* you’re angry with. You’re only calling me because it’s easy to be mad at me, it’s easy to say that *I’m* the one that’s done something wrong when *you’re* the one who let Dom go, when it’s *Dom* who left you.”

“You don’t GET it. I couldn’t say anything to Dom, I couldn’t tell him. I *had* to let him leave.”

“Because your mouth was wired shut, I suppose, and you were incapable of opening it. Grow the fuck up, Billy."

“He doesn’t love me Elijah. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Billy was on the verge of tears again and his words were coming out in thick, sob-choked clusters. “He doesn’t love me.”

“How do you know? Did you ever *ask*?”

Billy closed his eyes and wiped a hand over his cheek at the fresh trails of tears. “He told me that he never would.”

\---

_“Billy.” Dom’s voice is low and husky against Billy’s ear. Billy groans and shifts his weight beneath Dom, his fingers scrambling their way down Dom’s bare chest to tug anxiously at his belt. “Billy!” Dom brushes Billy’s hand away, grasps it and brings it to his lips._

_The sudden, surprisingly romantic gesture startles Billy and he stares up at Dom, wide-eyed and bewildered. “Yeah?”_

_“What is this?” Dom asks and his breath whispers across Billy’s fingers._

_“This?”_

_“What we’re doing. Right now. Are you going to pretend it didn’t happen in the morning?”_

_Billy frowns at him. “If you’re asking if I’m ashamed or embarrassed…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head, pulling his hand from Dom’s lips and bringing his own to them. “I’m not.”_

_“No, no. What I mean is…does this change things? Do we go back to being friends? Or are we in love?” Dom’s voice is small and he seems to shrink with it as he bows his head against Billy’s._

_Billy thinks for a long moment, his fingers walking the length of Dom’s arm as he does so. “I don’t want to go back to being just friends…” he whispers, finally. “This…with you…it feels good. It feels *right*.”_

_“But?” Dom lifts his head to meet Billy’s eyes._

_“”I don’t think I’m in love, right now, Dom.” Billy’s voice is quiet as he watches his fingers trace themselves over Dom’s skin. “I mean...I care about you. I care a *lot*. But…” Billy trails off uncertainly, unable to meet Dom’s eyes, afraid he’s said too much of the wrong thing._

_Dom smiles as he reaches up and touches Billy’s cheek, gently turning Billy’s head, forcing their eyes to meet. “I understand.” Immediately, Billy’s face breaks into a relieved smile and impulsively, he leans forward and presses an excited, cheerful kiss to Dom’s lips. Dom breaks off the kiss to say, his eyes serious as they train themselves on Billy’s, “I’m not in love with you either Billy. And I don’t think I will *ever* fall in love with you.”_

_But either Billy’s not listening or Billy just doesn’t care because he doesn’t respond, but instead says, “Shh,” and slowly, lowers the zipper on Dom’s trousers._

\---

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Billy’s voice was racked with tears as he repeated, “He told me, I will *never* love you. He doesn’t love me Elijah, he told me, he doesn’t, he doesn’t!” On the other end of the line, he heard the soft whoosh of Elijah’s breath, the hesitancy that preceded his speech. Miserably, Billy clenched the phone to his ear with one hand, the other wiping at his eyes.

“Oh, Billy…”

“Don’t ‘oh Billy’ me, Elijah, like you know all the answers. Because you *don’t*. You know fuck all and I know even less than that so *don’t* ‘oh Billy’ me.”

“BILLY! Shut up! You’re not making any sense!” Billy opened his mouth to retaliate – “YOU shut up” – but thought better of it, settling instead for grinding his teeth and emitting what he hoped was an extremely pissed off air toward Elijah. Elijah sighed into the phone, and Billy heard the distinct sound of the phone being shifted to his shoulder and a cigarette being lit.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound between them the steady puff of Elijah’s cigarette and the grinding of Billy’s teeth.

“Elijah-,”

“Billy-,”

They spoke simultaneously and froze at the other’s intrusion, lapsing back in an awkward silence, again listening to grinding teeth and the puffing of a cigarette. After a minute or two, Billy gave in, and said grudgingly, “You were saying?”

“I was saying that maybe you never asked Dom because deep down, you didn’t want him to stay. You *wanted* him to go.”

“That’s crap and you know it, Wood.”

“If you say so.” But Elijah’s tone was the condescending one of ‘say what you will but I’ll still see right through you’ and Billy scowled into the receiver at it, hoping that Elijah would catch his pissed off vibes. “What were *you* gonna say?” Elijah changed the subject.

“Are you smoking?”

“Billy.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. What were you going to say before the smoking?” He was rolling his eyes, Billy knew he was rolling his eyes just as he knew that he was leaning back in a chair, his feet propped up on the kitchen table, while the chair teetered precariously on his back legs.

Incredible, Billy thought, how well they still knew each other after all this time apart.

“Billy.” Elijah’s voice was getting irritated again, he’d be yelling in a minute.

“I can live without Dom,” Billy said abruptly.

“Oh?”

Billy wasn’t stopped by the interjection though, and he hurried on, his eyes shut fast and his words running together and tumbling over one another as he said, “I can live without Dom, I *have* lived without Dom. I can manage. I *can*.”

“But you will you be happy?” Elijah’s voice was a soft whisper that grated itself across Billy’s ear and he froze for a moment before answering.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Dom’s not the only one in the world,” Elijah whispered.

“I love him.”

“You can love more than one person. You could fall in love again, Billy. You could get a second chance.”

Billy heard this, hear Elijah saying the exact same things he had told himself before. They still made sense to him, he still believe them, but…

“Elijah, I don’t want to live forever wondering _what if_. What if Dom had stayed, what if I’d told him that I loved him, what if this and that and…” He wasn’t crying anymore, his voice was steady, low, strong as he spoke. “What if Dom *was* my second chance?”

Elijah replied matter-of-factly. “And maybe he was. Maybe this it for you.” Billy was deflated for a moment but then – then Elijah continued speaking, “And maybe you’re Dom’s second chance.”

Billy didn’t want to hope to understand what Elijah was saying, but he could feel his heart, his hopes rising already. “Wh-what does that mean?” Stupid hopes. Go the fuck away, you’ve let him down too many times before.

“It means maybe you ought to see what Dom does with *his* chance. Not everyone fucks things up.” Elijah’s smile reached into his voice as he said gently, “Good night Billy. I love you,” and hung up.

And Billy sat there, amazed, confused, his hopes already sky-rocketing and the whisper of doubt almost completely extinguished.

He didn’t want to believe what Elijah was saying, hinting.

But he did.

Billy slowly hung up the phone and stretched out on his bed and stared up into the darkness.

And waited for Dom’s part in this to begin.

\---

“Pick up the phone. Pick up the goddamn *phone*.” Billy gnashed his teeth together desperately at the ringing on the other end of the line. “Pick *up* the goddamn *telephone*.”

They say that third time’s the charm and maybe it is because Dom picked up after this third plea (or maybe it was a prayer. Or maybe a threat. It’s hard to draw a distinguishing line sometimes). “Hello?” his voice was low, rough, scratchy as though he’d been at a football match, shouting like mad.

Or, Billy thought, not without a stirring of hope, crying his eyes out.

“You lied to me,” Billy said bluntly into the phone.

There was a long pause and then finally a sigh as Dom said exasperatedly, wearily, “How’d I lie, Bill? What’d I say?”

“You told me you had your toothbrush. You don’t. I’ve got it right here with me.” Billy’s fingers tightened around the slick plastic of its neck, his thumb teased the soft fray of the bristles as he cradled his phone against his shoulder.

Dom made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. “You called me to tell me I lied to you about my *toothbrush*? God *damn* it Billy, I have no idea what time it is in Glasgow but in L.A. it is three-twelve in the morning and normal people are tying to get some sleep. So if you’ll be so kind-,”

“I don’t have your new address. Otherwise I could’ve sent it to you as soon as I found it.”

“Are you listening to me, Billy? It’s three-twelve. In the morning. I want to sleep, I don’t want to give you my address, so do us both a favor and-,”

“Well, I remember the street and the city, no shit, but I can’t remember which apartment or the house number. So if you could just give it to me, I’d-,”

“William Boyd! Please kindly shut up and let me sleep!”

Billy was hurt. “Well, FINE then. I’ll just knock on every door of every flat on this whole stupid street until I find you.”

Dom was still for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in an odd voice, one that wasn’t quite his, as though it had detached itself from Dom’s body. “Billy. What do you mean by, knock on every door?”

“Just like I said. I’m gonna knock on every bloody door until I find you, Dommie, and I’m when I do, I’m gonna-,”

“Hold on a sec.” Billy smiled to himself as he heard the scuffling sound of sheets being thrown back, trousers being tugged on and the muffled sound of curses as a drawer was slammed, presumably on one or two tender fingers. And then suddenly, Billy heard his name being shouted.

Slowly, Billy turned, one hand gripping a suitcase and the other with a toothbrush perched between the tip of his index- and middle-finger, a cell phone cupped in the palm of his hand. He smiled into the phone as he saw a man hanging out of a window, shouting Billy’s name and churning his arms wildly in the air, gesturing Billy to come to him. “I see you, Dom,” Billy whispered into the phone and bringing it away from his face, hung up and slipped it into his pocket along with the toothbrush.

Dom’s head disappeared from the window as Billy took the first few confident steps toward the building and confused, Billy stepped slower, more cautiously.

Maybe he should’ve called first.

A sick feeling grew in Billy’s stomach as he continued walking forward. He *should* have called first. Dom probably had to be up at five for an audition in the morning. Dom probably had someone in the flat with him. Dom probably didn’t even want to *speak* to him –

\- and then, somehow, Billy found himself in front of the building, watching as the doors flung open and Dom shot out of them, stopping a few feet short of Billy, staring, wide-eyed, incredulous, disbelieving.

“You’re really here,” Dom said flatly. Billy nodded, his throat constricting, unable to speak or to think of what to say. Dom. Here.

_Oh God, please let Lij have been right, if you ever gave me one thing, let it be this thing, let Elijah be right, let Dom take this chance and do what I couldn’t do. Please._

Dom shook his head and his voice was petulant, that of a small child who doesn’t want to admit that he’s tired and that he wants nothing more than to be tucked into bed. “You can’t be here. You can’t, you’re in Scotland because I left and you stayed. You *stayed*. You can’t *be* here.”

“I’m here, Dom.” Billy spoke softly, wearily and the words lay heavy between them for a long, long moment.

Dom was barefoot, wearing rumpled jeans that would have fallen low on his hips if he hadn’t been bunching the loose fabric up around his waist with one hand while the other pulled uncomfortably at his hair. The t-shirt he was wearing was paint-smeared with several holes scattered throughout the white fabric, and tugging awkwardly across his chest, as though it had been shrunk in the wash. He looked…

He looked *broken*.

Billy took a step towards him at the same moment Dom broke the silence – “Why are you here?”

“I…I had to ask you something.” Billy took another brave step forward, and then another, until he was standing only a few short inches away from Dom. He was close enough to breathe in Dom’s scent and to hear his shallow breathing. “I’ve never asked you anything, Dom. I never once...asked…anything.”

“What are you asking me now?” Dom’s voice was a whisper and he watched, as the suitcase fell from Billy’s hand and landed with a solid _thump_ on the ground, Billy’s hands, empty now, coming up to reach for his and then falling short.

“I’m asking you what you would’ve done if I had asked you to *stay*. If I’d asked you not to board that stupid plane, if I’d said, please Dom, stay here, stay here with *me*, if I’d asked you to just *wait* one more minute, just long enough for me to gather up some courage, if I’d…” Billy broke off abruptly and glanced away from Dom. He returned his gaze slowly, focusing first on Dom’s bare feet, broken blades of grass and drops of dew clinging to them. Then his legs, clad in denim jeans (there was a rip across one knee, white strands of thread slipping from it and revealing a patch of flesh, looked so damn *vulnerable*) and then his hands, one knotted up in the loose fabric of his jeans (they were nearly two sizes too big on him, was Dom losing weight? Had he just not noticed he’d picked up the wrong size? Or were they somebody else’s jeans? Billy wanted to *know*, he wanted to know *everything*) and the other was dangling helplessly at his side. The shirt was next, and Billy ached to tug it down over his flesh, to smooth its wrinkled fabric over Dom’s chest. And then his lips, parted and trembling, and then his eyes, lost, desperate.

“I don’t know what to say,” Dom whispered.

Billy broke, closed the distance between them, reached out for Dom. “Say that you’ll *stay*,” he whispered, begged, pleaded, and finally, finally, his arms were around Dom and Dom’s face was buried in his neck and Dom was trembling and shaking his head and lifting it to whisper, “I don’t see how it’ll *ever* work,” and then resting it on Billy’s shoulder again, tears melting through the fabric of Billy’s shirt to sear his flesh and there’s Billy, holding Dom, tight, never wanting to let go, and there’s Dom, broken and crying, it’ll never work, it’ll never work, never work.

“Shh, shh,” Billy said helplessly. It had to work because Dom was here and he was here and they were together and it just *had* to fucking work because if this can’t work than nothing ever will again.

“It can’t work, Bills.” Dom’s voice was a muted whisper against Billy’s shoulder and slowly, he disentangled himself from Billy, stumbling back a few feet and wiping his hands across his face.

The jeans fell low on Dom’s hips, just like Billy had expected.

“Don’t *you* tell me what can’t and what can fucking work. I’ve been waiting and working too damn *long* for it not to work and it has to, it absolutely fucking *has* to-.” Billy was exhausted, he wanted to scream and shout till he was hoarse, until Dom was shut up, until there wasn’t anything but quiet and Dom in his arms because damn it, Billy had *not* flown halfway across the fucking *world* to be met with it can’t work.

“You’re never going to leave Scotland, and I *can’t* leave L.A., you can’t be with someone who’s not *there*, and-.,”

Billy shook his head. “We’ll find some middle ground, Dom, *please*-,”

“Please *what*? Please *what*, exactly, because I’d really like to know.” Dom was angry, his mouth set in a determined line, his eyes dark.

_What’s he angry at? Is it me or is it himself or is it something else?_

“Please…I don’t know, Dom.” Billy was defeated, his hands empty as they reached for Dom again and then drew back, unsure if he should or he shouldn’t.

“Why are you here, Billy?” Dom asked again, quietly.

Billy closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear away the tears, the anger, the emotion. When he opened them again, his voice was quiet, strong, matter-of-fact. “I have spent too long trying *not* to be in love with you, Dominic. I have spent too long telling myself that I am *not* in love with you. I have spent far too long being *terrified* of falling in love with you, that I haven’t allowed myself to notice that I’ve been falling for you for a long, long time…

“Dom. I am in love with you. I have been falling in love with you for quite some time and I’ve only just realized it myself so I’m *sorry* if I’m not being very…articulate about it.” Billy’s voice broke for a moment but he managed to keep speaking for few more seconds. “I fall in love with you more every day and I don’t think I will *ever* stop but…I want to know what happens after falling.

“What happens when after I stop falling, Dom?”

Dom was covering his face with hands again and Billy wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. “Dom?” he asked and reached a hand tentative hand to touch Dom’s shoulder. “Are you…why are you crying?”

“Because you make me go all wobbly like a fucking twelve year old *girl*,” Dom wailed and fell to the ground in such an ungainly fashion, Billy wasn’t sure if he’d slipped on the wet grass or if he’d fallen on purpose. “*Christ* Billy!”

Billy kneeled next to him, wincing as the cold damp from the ground seeped through his jeans to soak his knees. “Dom?” he began slowly, reaching out and prying Dom’s hand from his face and clinging to them. “Dom,” he said again gently, “I…I’ll go home if you tell me to. I’ll leave and I’ll never speak to you again if you want me to. I wanted – you *had* to know.”

“Billy, you can’t make me-,”

“Dominic,” Billy interrupted, “I’ve *had* my chance. I’ve had more than enough and I’ve fucked up every last one of them. I…this is yours.” Billy curled Dom’s fingers toward his palm as though this chance were a tangible object that he could wrap his hand around and smiled softly. “What do you want, Dom?”

“I want…” but Dom never finished what he wanted because his eyes lit up and his arms flung themselves around Billy’s neck, pulling the other man down toward him. Billy was knocked off balance, and he fell on Dom, flattening him into the cold wet ground. Billy was mumbling an apology, trying his best to extract himself and pull Dom up to a sitting position again but Dom only laughed and clung to him, and then, he kissed Billy, his lips chilled and damp with the early morning air.

“Why’d you wait so long, eh Billy?” Dom asked after Billy had drawn away from him (after, of course, reassuring himself several times that Dom wouldn’t disappear if he stopped kissing him).

Billy was quiet for a long moment and Dom frowned, opening his mouth to ask again before Billy replied, “You said…that first night, you told me you’d never fall in love.”

And Billy was shocked to see Dom’s face crumple and fall, to see tears spring angrily to his eyes almost simultaneously with Billy’s words. “Stupid. Stupid bloody *fuck*,” Dom said and Billy wasn’t sure who he was addressing.

“Dom?”

“I’ve *always* been in fucking love with you Billy. Always, always, since the day I first bloody *saw* you.”

Well.

*That* was a surprise.

“Then WHY did you lie to me?” Billy said (later he’d wonder why he didn’t scream or shout at Dom, but at that very moment, he was quiet, subdued, completely and utterly *shocked*).

Dom’s face was a perfect mix between heartbreak and fear – did he really think Billy would leave, Billy wondered and felt his heart go out to Dom even as he glared at the other man. “I…I wanted you that night Billy and…you weren’t in love with me. Not yet. If I’d told you I loved you, you might not’ve stayed and I thought, at first, that maybe I could make you fall in love with me. And then…you never seemed to change any and I thought that…that I would be all right with casual sex. I thought I’d be all right with that for forever but when I visited you last year…I didn’t *want* to be all right with that anymore. There are so many other people in the world, I thought that there *had* to be someone who would love me back and I left and then Elijah’s telling me, he loves you, go see him, go on, and so I went but you didn’t *say* anything, you just fucked me like always and then you let me leave and…” Dom shook his head, turned it away from Billy. “Billy, I *wanted* to tell you, but how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with him? How do you tell somebody you’re in love when you’re not sure that they’d even listen to a word you have to say?”

“Like this,” Billy said firmly and reached out to cup Dom’s face in hands, turning it to face him. “Dom,” he said, a moment before he kissed him, “I love you.”

\---  
_  
One day, maybe ten years, maybe six months, or maybe only a day from now, Dom will find an excuse to crawl up into Billy’s lap, his legs tangled up with Billy’s and his arms flung messily around Billy._

_Billy will want to know what he thinks he is doing. And Dom will smile lazily at him and ask quietly, “Still falling?”_

_“Every day,” Billy will answer, and will take the moment to fall a little bit more in love with Dom, to fall in love with his smile, his eyes, his laughter, all over again. “What about you?” Billy will want to know next._

_And Dom will grin and will say, “I fall harder and faster every time I look at you, babe,” and Billy will laugh quietly as Dom hums happily before reaching up to kiss Billy, and Billy will find himself realizing that there is no after falling, that there’s only before falling and falling because with Dom, there is no ending._

::END::


End file.
